


Jemma Simmons and her Boy Toys

by Selmak



Series: Jemma and Her Boy Toys universe [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Getting reposted as Selmak has fat flippers and accidentally deleted it, M/M, Multi, Older Man/Younger Woman, Polyamory, Service Dogs are People too!, started off as crack but added angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 01:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 66
Words: 163,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2330036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selmak/pseuds/Selmak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Jemma Simmons knew that sooner or later, she'd have to settle down and marry, somehow she didn't anticipate who the lucky man might be. Or that she'd  have to deal with five very different SHIELD agents.</p><p>Accidentally deleted (SIGH) so reposted  chapters 1-54 on 9/19, so I lost all those lovely reviews. :(</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Every Story has a Beginning

Post Nulcear Dystopia. Post Fall of New York A/U. The Avengers kicked Loki back to Asgard but the nuclear damage was cataclysmic to the infrastructure.

the last few AOS episodes have been dark and depressing so I thought I'd write crack to cheer me.

YEAR 2 FNY

A nervous Jemma Simmons sat on the edge of the exam table. She was clad only in the very stylish paper exam robe and she was chilly. And nervous, so she kicked her feet. Uncontrollably, feeling like a small child as she did. There was a soft knock on the door and she forced herself to smile as she permitted the doctor to come in.

It was a female doctor, so it wasn't that bad. Well, not as bad as it could be.

"Hi, I'm Nina Silvestri," the grey haired doctor tersely explained. "I'll need to swab you."

Jemma nodded and opened her mouth. The swabbing was done quickly and efficiently and then Dr. Silvestri asked her to recline to continue her exam. To her grateful surprise, Nina didn't blather, didn't give her the party line, instead she was quiet and efficient.

"Almost over," the doctor assured her and then she requested that Simmons sit up. "Do you need a few minutes?"

Simmons shook her head.

"You'll be notified in a few weeks. I hope you have a good match," the doctor said.

"No doubt I'll be seeing you in within a few months," Simmons quipped in a failed attempt at being cheerful. Her smile failed and her lip quivered.

"Have a tissue," the doctor offered.

* * *

"How was it?" Fitz asked as he met her outside the doctor's office.

Instead of answering, she leaned into Fitz, needing his physical support as she regained her composure. He held her until she shook her head and pulled away.

"She was kind and professional. Good swabbing technique," Jemma announced. At Fitz's head shake, she continued in a very flat tone, "I'll find out in a few weeks."

"I've been swabbed too," Fitz assured her. "Maybe…we''ll be a genetic match."

"Odds are poor," Jemma, ever the biochemist, protested.

"Doesn't matter, he'll just have to accept FitzSimmons as a package," Fitz fiercely stated. "Let's go back to our room. We'll live vicariously and have tea and bikkies. I have a package of your favorites."

"How?" Jemma asked. Bourbon biscuits were, at most, a fond memory of happier times.

"Trade," Fitz explained. It wasn't quite the truth, but close enough. Simmons didn't need to know exactly how he had acquired them.

Left unsaid that was he had procured them specifically for today, as he knew that Simmons would be in the need of cheering after being Swabbed for her genetic code.

* * *

The notification came swiftly, and Simmons left her lab with Fitz close behind her. They went back to their small flat and Simmons sat on the couch. Fitz sat next to her and she leaned towards him, once again in need of his support and comfort.

"No matter what, we'll always be FitzSimmons," Leo assured her before she opened the notification. She read the letter that detailed her indenture to producing future generations and then she dropped it to the floor.

"Are we compatible?" Fitz asked.

"No," she said in a very shaky tone. "They're all of the Nomenklatura; Level seven at least and I'm to meet them in three days on a group introduction. One's an eight. The other FOUR…. FOUR… are Sevens. You'll come with me."

It wasn't just a request. It was a desperate plea for support

* * *

The five male agents, some there willingly, some not so much, one marched off under gun point to the greet n' meet, were standing next to the bar. Each of them had at least one drink, and several were working on drink number three.

"I feel sorry for that poor girl," John Garrett announced. "She'll be overwhelmed by all the sheer masculinity and testosterone in the room. I hope she doesn't swoon."

Jasper Sitwell coughed a laugh, while Felix Blake rolled his eyes. Phil Coulson said nothing, as was his new norm, but Grant Ward flushed.

"What's the problem, Blake? You don't want to drop trow to help produce future generations?" The irrepressible John Garrett continued even while Blake's countenance appeared to darken. "Coulson, if Blake starts throwing punches, I'll take him, he's coy but scrappy. I'll let you have Jasper. Just don't let the glare from his head blind you."

Blake sniffed his disgust, "Typical Sagittarius."

"What about me?" Grant Ward asked as he hated being left out.

"You can hold Phil's and my jackets." Garrett decided. "If any of ZombieCoulson's body parts come off, you get to pick them up and keep them safe so we can reattach them with super glue. Jasper. Intel?"

Even while a not amused Phil Coulson smacked John Garrett on the back of his head, Jasper removed his glasses and shook his head. "You know it's not permitted for us to pry."

"Phil! That hurt," protested John. "When you rose from the grave after three days, you left your sense of humor in the ground."

That earned Garrison another smack to his head, this time by a lightning fast Jasper Sitwell.

"Spit it out, man," Blake growled. "It's not fair that only you have the intel. I see you dressed to impress." While Blake and Coulson were in their suits, Garrett and Ward were wearing their usual fatigues, Jasper was wearing jeans, sweater and sharp black leather jacket.

"Sci-Tech, twenty five, not from America," Sitwell dutifully reported.

As the only male in the room who was under forty, Grant Ward brightened until Phil Coulson spoke. His voice was quite rough as he contributed his intel, "Jemma Simmons."

"The Simmons of FitzSimmons." Blake stated.

The men deflated, pondering what the exact relationship between Fitz and Simmons was and what it might mean.

"Looks like we're getting matching bookends," quipped Garrett.

"It's a package deal?" asked Ward.

"Least you'll be warm at night with one on each side," Jasper quipped. "It will be helpful when the power goes out when the grid fails."

"Lads," John Garrett said in a very passable posh British accent. "Her IQ is higher than all five of ours combined. You know what that means, don't you?"

He paused, savored the blank looks on the four other men, and then continued, "Experience and treachery beats youth and pretty boy looks every time. Ward, just pack up and go home. You too, Jasper. Leave her to the two old men and Zombie."

Phil smiled, as only Garrett was brave enough, stupid enough and secure enough to call Coulson, Zombie, to his face. Phil's indulgent smile caused Garrett to turn towards Coulson. "Hey! Zombie smiled. And your face didn't fall off."

"It cracked though," Phil dryly admitted. He tapped his nose. "Did my nose fall off?"

Coulson had hoped by laughing at his trauma, he would lessen its hold on his soul and shattered psyche. Hasn't worked yet, but still he tried.

Blake snorted a laugh while Sitwell and Ward looked horrified.

"Though I hope she doesn't mind that experience comes with a few scars," admitted John as he adjusted his turtle neck.

* * *

"Ready?" Fitz asked before she opened the door to the bar.

Simmons bit her lip and nodded her head. Her hair was down and curly, and she had struggled to find a proper outfit that was smart, sophisticated plus had a little dash of sex.

"You alright? You didn't eat today," prompted Fitz.

"Thought I'd sick up," she admitted. Actually she had spent the entire day on finding a proper outfit and reviewing the questionnaires to determine who she might be meeting. Who was the one that thought cuddling skin to skin on a Sunday morning was a lovely way to waste the day away? Who liked motorcycles, which one played acoustic guitar?

"This is neutral territory, remember," he assured her. "You're coming here to meet them, put faces and names to their questionnaires. There's a group date later on this week."

"This sounds like a bad reality show I once saw, back before the infrastructure went arse over tit," she protests. "Was it called 'The Bachelorette'?"

"I prefer 'Dr. Simmons and her Boy Toys'," quipped Fitz.

She was still smiling when she opened the door to reveal her Boy Toys. To her horror, none of which could be properly described as Boy Toys, but instead, Men.

_**Phil Coulson,** _

Level 8. Nicknamed Zombie, Coulson the Undead, due to his death during the Fall of New York. He had been resurrected somehow, but rumors were that whatever had been brought back from the other side wasn't Phil Coulson. His face was expressionless but he nodded once when she looked at him. He was… fifty?

**_John Garrett._ **

Specialist. Level 7. Hard core Shield agent. Plus he had a wicked sense of humor, and he was older than Coulson. He looked her up and down, and smiled even while he readjusted his turtle neck.

 _ **Jasper Sitwell**_.

Level 7. Field agent. He was forty? Maybe? He nodded also when he realized that she was looking at him. Supposedly, he was a bit of Lothario, leaving a string of broken hearts behind him. He was smug, and wearing a leather jacket, so he was a bad boy.

 _ **Grant Ward**_.

Level 7. Specialist. Cheekbones to die for, but prickly and that was being kind.

_**Felix Blake.** _

Same age bracket as the older men. Reputation for being a nasty bastard. He raised his glass to her when she looked at him.

She smiled at them, and realized that she was feeling shaky. Very, very shaky when she realized, anew, that she had to choose one of these men to be the father of her children and spend the rest of their lives together. Then her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted.


	2. Jemma Simmons, Swooning Swan

The agents moved quickly to prevent Jemma Simmons from cracking her head when she fainted. Garrett grabbed her shoulders, Coulson sheltered her head, Blake was at her waist, leaving Sitwell and Ward with a leg a piece. Ward had unintentionally antagonized Fitz as he had pushed the slighter man out of the way.

"Count of three, bring her to the floor," ordered Coulson. "One, two, three…"

The Agents lowered the limp Simmons to the floor, as a team, and Coulson continued instructing.

"You know, we both took the same first aid class," Blake snarked.

"You slept through most of it," Garrett reminded him. "Let's raise her feet, but carefully, as she's wearing a skirt. Fitz, would you mind unbuttoning her top button of shirt?"

Even while the Scot sputtered his protests, Jemma Simmons, Swooning Swan, came around. She opened her eyes, realized that the last fifteen minutes of her lift wasn't a horrible, horrible nightmare but in fact, a cruel curse bestowed by a Vengeful God, and she closed her eyes again. Please, just let them leave her alone to die!

"Sorry, it's still your dream come true," Garrett announced even as he was removing his jacket. "How are you feeling?"

"Woozy," she admitted.

He folded his jacket and placed it under her head. "Why don't you just stay like this for another ten minutes or so and we'll see how you're feeling."

"Stand back and let her have some air," Coulson ordered, so the various agents took all of a half-step back.

* * *

Really, lying flat on her back (with her legs spread open wide she had noticed) in front of (on the bottom of? ) five male agents was beyond humiliating. However, Coulson was jacket-less and there was a jacket covering her from her waist to her knees and Garrett had placed his jacket under her head.

After far too long, she decided it was safe to stand. So she did, and then she realized that she was once again surrounded by everyone. The wooziness returned in full force and she swallowed once, twice… as she felt the world spinning and that she couldn't breathe.

"She's about to black out," stated Felix just before she did.

Great. Blake was a master of the obvious, she thought just before she blacked out again.

* * *

John Garrett managed to grab Jemma Simmons before she did another face plant. He shifted the unconscious Simmons (thank God she was a lightweight) into a one person carry.

"Time to go to Medical," he announced. "Let's go. Fitz, please lead the way."

* * *

The five agents paired off into two separate groups once a still unconscious Jemma was wheeled into a trauma ward. The old dogs, Coulson, Garrett and Blake stood in one corner while the young pups, Sitwell and Ward hung about by the coffee machine.

Leo Fitz was with Simmons so there was no information forthcoming. However, each agent felt somewhat responsible for what had happened (though each would deny on their grave that they had a heart and felt any remorse).

"This is obscene," Felix Blake hissed. "Standing around like expectant fathers."

"More like standing at stud," Garrett growled.

"I didn't sign up for this," protested Coulson. He was compulsively rubbing his chest and Blake and Garrett munificently decided to ignore the twitch. "Repopulation of America Act be damned, I didn't sign up for this when I joined SHIELD."

"No, but you're in the Stud Book now. I know Melinda May frog marched you down here with a gun in your back," Blake sniped. "But it's worse for Simmons. You saw the look on her face when she saw who her matches were, in particular the three of us. We're old enough to be her father, but Ward and Sitwell?"

The three old dogs glanced at the pups, and grimaced.

"If you had a daughter, would you want her to end up with either of them?" Blake asked.

"Would you want your imaginary daughter to end up with one of us?" Garrett retorted.

"Blake's right," Coulson quietly inserted. "Sitwell's a player and Ward…"

"Is Ward," Garrett inserted. "Damn good specialist, no people skills. I'm sure you've seen his file and know about his family history. Least we'd be … respectful. She's just a poor kid."

Coulson did a double take and Blake looked as though an alien had swapped out Garrett's normally cynical personality with a responsible, mature adult.

"I have a heart," Garrett protested. "She's just a kid who's stuck in this mess because…the nuclear fallout…"

Agents Blake and Coulson shake their head.

"Don't worry, no one would believe me if I told them," Coulson quipped. "However, Dr. Simmons is far smarter than us, so we need a game plan. I'm thinking, we can help the kids self-destruct."

The three agents nodded their heads in agreement.

"Ward's already close to being kicked off the island as he antagonized the Gay BFF," Blake decided. "It wasn't necessary to be quite that physical pushing Fitz out of the way. He should have let Fitz grab a foot or something at least. Therefore, to achieve our goal, we need to befriend Fitz."

The three old dogs pondered a bit and then Coulson motioned them together. "This is the plan…"

* * *

"No news is good news, eh?" John Garrett asked Ward and Sitwell after they had been waiting for what seemed like several hours. In reality, thirty two minutes. "Why don't you leave a message with the head nurse so Fitz will call you when she's released? It's what we're doing as I had other plans that staying in a hospital waiting room. Coulson and Blake have already left."

The pups agreed and trotted off.

**_Bad form, boys. Simmons will always worry that you'll leave her if she has any problems. However, the three old men will have points for not turning tail and running._ **

He walked away, went down one staircase, crossed the hall and came back up to find Frick and Frack, sorry Coulson and Blake were already sitting in the waiting room couch. They've been busy, as there are three small bunches of flowers from three different florists (Blake's work), and several containers from a really good Thai place. (Phil).

"Kids ran off," he announced.

"What a surprise," Blake deadpanned as he dived into the jumbo shrimp with pineapple.

"Which flowers are mine?" Garrett asked as he sat between the two men. "Budge over Coulson. Save me some of the shrimp, Felix."

"Hibiscus," Blake informed Garrett. "Sign the card."

"Perhaps something profound like sorry I made you faint?" He quipped.

Coulson and Blake both shake their heads. In unison.

"Perhaps you should stop attempting to sabotage your own chances," Phil dryly admonished. "She may decide on Sitwell after we get rid of Ward."

"That's the one bad point about your plan, Coulson. If we rescue the fair damsel from Ward and Sitwell, one of us will be DADDY," Garrett reminded him. "Who's taking one for the home team?"

"Garrett," was Coulson's immediate response while Black nominated Coulson.

"I was thinking Blake myself," admitted Garrett.

"Fuck you," Blake snapped.

"Only if you let me top, Blakey," Garrett retorted.

"It's my turn," was Felix's lightning fast rejoinder.

"What?" Garrett said in reference to Coulson's quirked eyebrow. "I get lonely. And there's not a lot of women that want to bed a man that looks like a patchwork quilt. I mean, you've got quite the scar there, Coulson, have you tangoed with anyone since you came back? Most women into scar kinks aren't my type."

Coulson shook his head. Only once.  "Public," was all he said, but both men nodded their heads in understanding.

"Door's opening," Blake advised, so the three men stood, together, in solidarity.

* * *

"I wasn't planning on seeing you again so soon," was Nina Silverstri's greeting when Simmons woke. "Leo said that you were meeting the lucky candidates today and you forgot to eat."

Simmons crinkled her nose at the betrayal from Fitz who just shrugged his shoulders.

"Leo, why don't you tell them that she's fine and that they can go home," suggested Silvestri. Fitz, grateful to escape from Simmon's wrath, agreed.

"They've probably gone already," Simmons demurred.

"No. There are three of them out there. The staff is busy gossiping about them," the doctor explained. "Let's elevate your head a bit."

Simmons just moaned.

"They're old enough to be my father," Simmons protested. She had no problem admitting that she was whinging and having a sulk.

"Older men have their charm," the doctor teased. "They know what they're doing in bed."

"Sleeping?" retorted a distraught Simmons.

"I understand that you have six months to make your decision, but… please… at least kick their tires and start the fire, if you know what I mean. Don't decide on a younger man just because he's been blessed with killer cheekbones, because… you never know what they'll look like in twenty years. With an older guy, you have a pretty good guess. While you're here, I've renewed your birth control. It's the newest plan, you take one just before and after."

"I kick their tires?" Simmons asked. Oh, she was being very snippy. Her mother, God rest her soul, would have swatted her one.

Silvestri just shook her head. "Have some fun before you settle down. You might be surprised by them."

There was a quiet knock on the door and Fitz popped his head in. "I told them to go but they won't. They wanted to see how you were feeling, and… they bought flowers for you."

Fitz didn't like Ward, wasn't impressed with Sitwell, but apparently the trio had scored points by staying until she woke.

Simmons deflated and Silvestri smiled.

"I told you older men have their charm," she staged whispered. "Let them in, Simmons. They've been out there for hours."

* * *

The three Agents, Blake, Coulson and Garrett marched in, dutifully presented her with flowers, (Hibiscus! Gerber Daisies! Tulips!), asked about her health and then were quickly shown the door.

"Hmm… they all went to different florists," Silvestri commented. "They made an effort. Bodes well."

"They did, didn't they," Simmons slowly admitted. It seems that Sitwell and Ward hadn't cared, they had just run off at the first spot of trouble.

Perhaps an older man wasn't as frightfully horrid an idea as she originally believed it to be.


	3. Introducing Winston

This has been totally Jossed.

But I struggle on. Else Jhedon and Lacheisgrimme would have meeting eating Ben & Jerry's all day long.

* * *

The three old dogs aka Blake, Coulson and Garrett, were sitting in the park on the same park bench. They were joined by a large, salt and pepper Giant Schnauzer, Winston, who looked a great deal like his owner with his greying hair and his serious mien. The large dog turned when he heard oncoming footsteps and he faced the latest interloper, sniffed once and decided he wasn't worth the effort and sat next to his owner.

Jasper Sitwell shook his head.

"You played me," Jasper said with a twinge of unwilling respect. "You all played me."

"No, we didn't, son," Garrett drawled. "All's fair in love and war, and you didn't care enough to stay."

Meanwhile Phil, Felix and Winston said nothing but they openly displayed their amusement by smirking. A growling Sitwell shook his head again, and walked towards another park bench where a fuming Grant Ward was sitting.

"Dog's a good touch," Phil informed Felix.

"Love me, love my dog," quipped Felix. "So what is this shit?"

"A social coordinator has been hired for this clusterfuck," Garrett explained much to Felix' confusion.

"Social coordinator?" spat Felix. "What the fuck?"

"Level One Agent," inserted Phil.

"To help prevent Dr. Simmons from fainting again. It seems they're blaming her swooning on us." Garrett grimaced a 'But Nick, we're completely innocent even though Sweden is in shambles!' look.

"Why are we doing this again? Can someone remind me why I signed up for this three hour cruise?" Felix asked.

"FURY," chimed in Phil and Garrett. Winston woofed his disapproval at Fury and Blake nodded.

"Who's the perky brunette?" Felix asked.

"Cruise director," Phil explained.

All three men looked at the perky brunette and then said in unison, "Is she even old enough to drink?"

Realizing that it was time for the next nefarious part of their plan to keep Jemma Simmons safe from Sitwell and Ward, Blake reached into his bag and pulled out a Frisbee. Winston, noticing that the Frisbee was about to be put into play, began excitedly jumping in circles and leaping like a mad dog.

"Operation Frisbee is now commencing," Felix Blake intoned even while a joyful Winston succeeded in a performing a backflip.

* * *

Skye, newly christened SHIELD Level 1 agent, smiled brightly when she met Jemma Simmons.

"Hi, I'm supposed to plan things," she bubbled. "Group dates, elimination contests, the end result being that it leave you with just one bachelor."

Simmons groaned as this sounded like a truly horrible reality show. Plus she couldn't help but hear "Kick their tires and light their fires" in her head.

Skye patted Simmons' hand with what she hoped was a sympathetic touch. "I understood that your first meeting with the eligible bachelors didn't go very smoothly."

"She fainted," inserted Leo Fitz. "Her little eyes rolled up in her adorable little face and she went..." He gestured in a way that quite adequately displayed Jemma Simmons' face plant for those not lucky enough to witness it first hand. 

"On the positive side, you only fainted once," Skye chirped as she was trying to find something positive to say.

The unsinkable Skye's smile faded when the science twins chimed in with, "Twice."

"How far did you get in the introductions?" Skye asked. Her cheerfulness was long gone and Simmons gives her a weak smile.

"She fainted… twice," inserted Leo Fitz. "We thought meeting in the park might work out better."

"Did you hydrate?" Skye asked. "We could get you a snow cone or something. There's a vendor near that really cute dog that's playing Frisbee."

* * *

It was a cute dog, Jemma realized. It was big and salt and pepper colored. It had a dignified appearance with serious eyebrows and matching beard but he was currently racing after a Frisbee with a joy that was infectious.

Simmons made a noise akin to a whimpering seal cub when she realized it was Felix Blake's dog. Skye, immediately reached toward Simmons in a feeble attempt at preventing her from fainting once more and cracking open her head.

"That's Bachelor # 5," explained Fitz.

Skye said nothing, so Simmons, who was not happy at all with recent events, turned on her new social coordinator. "Nothing to say?" she snipped.

"He's established," Skye said in a very weak tone.

"He's ANCIENT," snapped Simmons.

"I'm sure he's got a huge pen….sion…" Skye desperately pleaded while Fitz snorted.

* * *

"We need take Ward out of the equation," Coulson decided. "Nothing too obvious, but something that will display his bad behavior and his complete unsuitability. Any ideas?"

Felix smiled, a very odd expression on his normally quite sober face. "I can handle. Best if you don't know what I'm planning so the look of surprise will be real."

"I'm glad that you're on our side," Phil quipped.

"I'm on Simmons' side," he tersely explained as he walked to a street vendor to buy water for his dog.

As Felix was procuring water for Winston, the perky brunette came to over to Coulson and Garrett's area.

"Hi, I'm Skye," she announced.

"As in Blue Sky?" Garrett asked.

"SKYE," the brunette repeated, as she realized that she lost what little control over the scene that she once had possessed. "Like the Isle of Skye. Now, I understand that you really haven't met Jemma, officially."

"We met," Garrett announced. "Held her in my arms."

Phil Coulson slapped Garrett on the back of his head while the irrepressible Garrett widely smiled.

"As I gently carried her limp body to Medical, I worried so. I am delighted that you are feeling better, Dr. Simmons. I'm John Garrett." He smiled before he bent over her hand and kissed it.

Phil noticed, as did the other eligible bachelors that Simmons blushed. "Thank you and the Hibiscus were beautiful."

"I'm delighted," Garrett crooned. "I'm sure you know Phil Coulson. The rumors of his continuing death have been horribly exaggerated."

Phil took her extended hand and carefully shook it. Her smile faltered just slightly while she complimented him on the daisies so he didn't catch the full extent her unease at meeting Zombie Coulson. Then the two were introduced to Leo Fitz and they made small talk about the park. Meanwhile Jemma was formally introduced to Sitwell and Ward before Blake returned with Winston in tow.

The big dog with his dark soulful eyes, sat and  then adoringly stared at Simmons before the dog spontaneously offered his heavy paw in greeting.

"Better check my sugar," Garrett hissed to Coulson who admitted that was about to die from 'The Cute'.

"May I?" Simmons carefully asked Blake who nodded.

Permission granted, she sank down to the ground and had a conversation with Winston, who nodded his head in easy agreement at key points.

"What a handsome fellow you are!" Head nod. "You are the best dog ever." Head nod. "You're just **_utterly_** wonderful." That earned her a lick from his tongue and Blake hissed in disapproval.

"No, no, no," Simmons cheerfully admitted even as she hugged a happy, docked tail wagging Winston. "I had a dog when I was younger. He's adorable and just so incredibly smart. He's such a love."

Blake clicked his tongue and Winston turned serious before he wandered away to sit next to Blake. 

"Now that the introductions have been done, I thought we could perhaps go to a bar, so we can chat," Skye announced.

"Hey!" Ward yelled as he jumped. His loud shriek caused Phil Coulson and John Garrett to immediately produce their side arms even as Winston began growling. "Stupid dog!"

Side arms were quickly secured as it seemed that Winston had decided to water Grant Ward. Copiously.

"Perhaps he thought you were a tree, as you're just so stiff," snarked Fitz.

"He's **_not_** a stupid dog," hissed Simmons, who ferociously glared at Grant Ward. "I think you need to go home and change."

Grant Ward had just been found guilty of the following charges in the High Court of Jemma Simmons.

**_No Flowers._ **

**_Dog Hater._ **

The three old dogs tried not to smile victoriously in the Battle for Fair Maiden Jemma, but Sitwell looked horrified as how easily the competition had been eliminated, and how it was just _**him** _ against **_THEM_**.

"Maybe if you can change quickly, Ward, you can meet us at the bar across the street?" Sitwell asked.

"We can't go to the bar," Jemma protested. "I insist that Winston **_must_** come with us else Agent Blake…."

"Felix," suavely inserted Felix Blake.

"Felix won't be able to join us and he must tell me all about that adorable dog."

And Winston waved his shaggy butt. Happily even while John Garrett began whistling, "Na na na na, na na na na, hey hey hey, goodbye."


	4. Sinking of the Sitwell

The group settled at some sort of Mexican bar and there was a bit of a problem as Winston, the Giant Schnauzer, was not permitted to join their party at the formerly dog friendly bar. Blake rubbed his head and tiredly grimaced, "I'll go."

Coulson and Garrett shook their heads.

"Put his vest on," Garrett hissed. "It's too easy for you to run home. And I know if you bring Winston back home, you're staying in for the night.""

Phil Coulson nodded once in easy agreement and waved his hand.

"Can I speak to your manager in private?" Blake asked the waitress. Winston followed closely behind his owner as they moved away from the crowd.

"Should I help?" Garrett asked Coulson. Jemma noticed that the big man seemed quite protective of the slighter Blake.

"Let him handle it," Coulson decided. "If it doesn't work out, I'll get involved."

Dog and owner soon returned to the Elder Agents of Shield and Winston was wearing his very snazzy Service Dog Vest.

"Apparently people bring in Chihuahuas in their Coach bags and claim that they're Service Dogs," Blake hissed. His face was a thundercloud and Winston looked properly affronted at the very idea of his awesome responsibility being managed by a… Chihuahua. In a Coach bag.

"I don't want any teasing," Blake demanded.

"Sitwell says anything I'll use his head as a billiard ball," promised Garrett.

"Not him, **_you_** ," Blake insisted. "I hate…." He hated having a Service Dog, hated the reason why he had needed one… hated the condescending look from agents when they realized that Winston was sleeping in his office.

Winston's expressive face fell and he pouted.

"Never you, boy," Blake assured his dog with a brisk head rub, who promptly forgave his owner. "It's just too noisy in here for me…."

How he hated the feeling of claustrophobia that was threatening to overwhelm him even now. There were just too many people, too many in his immediate personal space and yet Garrett had been right. If he had taken Winston home, he would have stayed home in the safety of his apartment.

"I never treated Winston like a joke," protested a wounded Garrett. His face was dripping in sincerity, and even Coulson looked convinced at the earnestness of their very own trickster.

* * *

Ward and Sitwell had taken their chance to sit next to Jemma Simmons (no offense to the older agents, but they needed to move faster than their arthritic norm if they wanted to sit next to Jemma) and they flirted outrageously. Fitz looked unimpressed while Skye admired Grant Ward's chiseled cheekbones and hoped that Jemma wouldn't pick him as her choice in the sexual sweepstakes known as the Repopulation of America Act.

The three senior agents joined them and Jemma noticed that Winston was wearing a Service Dog duty vest and that greying Blake was stone-faced. Wisely, she said nothing, as she figured she'd get the details later.

"Round of drinks?" Garrett helpfully asked. "I'll pay."

He took orders and Coulson offered to assist, leaving Fitz sitting next to Blake. Blake grimaced a smile and Fitz returned it even while Jasper Sitwell easily flirted with a smitten Jemma (complete with devilish wink and easy smile).

"Time for Plan: Sinking of the Sitwell," Garrett announced when they reached the bar. "I saw a few people that owe me a favor. Promises to be moderately embarrassing and hugely entertaining."

At the end of the bar there was a gaggle of moderately attractive midlevel agents.

"Hello, Margaretta," Garrett smoozed. "I'm wondering if I could call in a favor? Coulson, do you know Margaretta? She works in legal."

A blonde with a full cleavage matched with a low cut top leaned in his direction. As he was a gentlemen, he kept his eyes above her shoulders though Lord, they were doing everything but jumping out and saluting him.

"Yes?" She purred.

"I'll buy your entire group a round of drinks if you could just play a prank on Jasper Sitwell."

The entire group of rather rapacious females grinned and Coulson felt a moment's sympathy for Jasper. But a quick look at Jasper showed that he was moving his chair still closer to Simmons and there was… _hand touching_. Flirtatious hand touching. And Grant Ward was looking with all calf-eyed adoration at the rather pretty Simmons, and Coulson came to a quick decision.

"I'll throw in another round and assorted appetizers if you pull Grant Ward into your bad girl shenanigans."

"Always a pleasure to help out several senior agents," she purred. She stood and began to saunter over to her friends.

"Margaretta?" Garrett smiled.

"Yes," she asked.

"More hip action," he suggested.

"Like this?" She did a little wiggle and both older agents stared in fascination at her utterly alluring sway. Seeing the stunned look on her victims' faces, she decided her battle plan had been approval by her Generals. Her strut perfected, she went towards her victims, followed by her pack of undulating Sirens.

"If Simmons ever moved like that, we'd live in constant fear of dislocating our pelvises," Coulson admitted. "And remind me, why are we protecting her from Ward and Sitwell again?"

"As SHIELD Agents, we are sworn to protect the innocent from nefarious souls who would do them harm," Garrett quoted verbatim. "Especially someone who doesn't appreciate the danger she's in."

Jemma blushed at something that Sitwell said and she turned and smiled at Ward.

"Such a complete innocent," the two men softly stated.

They pondered that thought for a long time before Garrett laughed. "I supposed I don't have to buy Sitwell and Ward a drink? I have a feeling that the party train is about to derail."

They toasted each other and decided it best to watch the carnage from afar. Less possibility of collateral damage that way.

"I hope Blake gets a good laugh," Coulson added after he took a very slow sip. "How's he doing?"

"This stupidity is actually good for him, as he is forced to do more than work. He has to meet people and actually talk to them. Winston is also helpful as he distracts him when Felix…."

Garrett stopped.

"Obsessively remembers how he got hurt during the invasion of New York?" Coulson asked. His tone was sympathetic though he never gave Blake any obvious sympathy regarding his issue. They were men, after all.

"He's quite claustrophobic now. Can't blame him as he did have a building fall on him." Garrett explained. "As you know, I was there when they found him and I stayed with him until they got him out. I still remember how he was …. Completely catatonic as he had been under the rubble for almost two days. I thought the building was gonna come down on me, but I couldn't leave Felix, not under the rubble when he was so terrified that… he was trapped in his own head."

Phil nodded.

"And you were dead, supposedly. I thought I had lost my two best friend," slowly admitted Garrett.

"Sentimentality? At your age?" Coulson quipped.

"Fuck you, Coulson," snapped Garrett.

"You offering?"

* * *

Jasper Sitwell snarked a witty comment and Jemma found herself laughing. Really, this dating thing wasn't as bad as she had though as both Jasper and Grant were handsome and rather funny. However, Felix was a bit grim, and Winston rested his large head in his lap even while Felix compulsively stroked his head

There was a loud disturbance as a flock of scantily clad female agents descended upon the unsuspecting agents; much like the Avengers intent on Avenging New York City.

"Jasper Sitwell!" A female voice excitedly exclaimed. "You are such a naughty, naughty boy! You never called me like you promised. Didn't our fabulous night together mean anything?"

Meanwhile Grant Ward was also busy being assaulted by Lynette, a very buxom analyst who was sitting in his lap. There were multiple accusations of his infidelity and his lack of commitment by several women.

Jemma Simmons lost her brilliant smile. Instead, she looked at both men, realized that the only dog she liked at the table was Winston, who had snuggled his head in her lap. 'Don't worry, I love you best, besides Dad that is, as he needs me', his dark eyes informed her.

Really, her womb had been bartered off, without her permission and she was dealing with…. **_BOYS_**. Who had cared not a bit that she fainted (TWICE), who couldn't have been bothered to send her flowers (really, she possessed such low expectations from the grinning and smirking and winking Sitwell and Ward that a dandelion would have been nice) and who flaunted their numerous flings in her face….

Decision made, she kicked Jasper Sitwell and Grant Ward off the Isle of Possible Victors for Jemma Simmons's Eggs.

If she was forced to breed the future generation, she'd want a MAN, not a BOY.

"Felix, would you care to dance?" she asked.

The older agent looked confused so Simmons stood only after giving Winston a pat on his adorable little black nose.

"Get rid of **_them_** ," she hissed at Skye. "They'll be gone before I come back."

"But, but, but…" Skye protested.

"Cross them off the list," Jemma insisted. "I am not wasting my time on them. I don't want flirtatious boys, I prefer established men because they have bigger pensions and bigger penises!"

Hopefully Felix Blake hadn't heard that.

* * *

"I think our Plan: Sinking of the Sitwell worked better than anticipated," Coulson informed Garrett while they watch Felix struggle to dance with Jemma Simmons. "Is that the merengue?"

"I think so," Garrett assured him. "Though he's not holding her very closely."

"Respectful distance," Coulson heartedly approved. "Kids look pissed. What's the next plan?"

"Befriending of Fitz," suggested Garrett. "He's a fierce little lion cub, he wanted to murder Sitwell and Ward when the gaggle of their discarded exs descended. You do realize that Sitwell and Ward had dated most of those women?"

"I don't keep track of their sex lives," a primp Coulson retorted.

"I do. It's better than watching drinking beer and watching really bad K-dramas in Korean sans English subtitles. I'll invite Fitz to meet us with tomorrow for some drinks."

* * *

"So, Felix," Jemma asked in a very bright tone as Felix led her to the dance floor. "How long have you had Winston?"

Blake swallowed and softly admitted, "When I was in the hospital after New York."

He was close to shutting down on her, completely, and she realized that she needed to tread very carefully. Fortunately Skye had hacked the system so she had an extensive biography of her various 'suitors'.

**_Felix Blake, 50. Level 7. Single. Never married. Trapped in the debris at SHIELD HQ for almost two days. Widespread injuries including multiple long bone fractures. Completely catatonic after extrication. Extensive therapy. Prone to claustrophobia, panic attacks in confined spaces. Therapy dog placement deemed a successful match between both._ **

"He's such a sweet dog," she said even as she placed his hands on her. Close, but not too close, she hoped as she began to sway to the music.

"Is," he finally agreed.

"On our date nights, you'll bring him, won't you?" she asked.

He nearly stepped on her foot but he nodded.

"Good, he's such a lovely dog. Perhaps we can have a picnic and you can bring a Frisbee."

She chitchatted while they danced, and then someone tapped on Felix's shoulder.

"May I cut in?" John Garrett asked.

Felix nodded and returned back to the table.

"Would you like to samba, Simmons?" he grinned even as he placed his hands just so. Close but respectful.

**_John Garrett, 55. Level 7. Single. Never married. Multiple commendations for various missions. Refuses to leave the field. Has a tendency of repeating war stories. Extensive stay in burn unit after experiencing third degree burns._ **

"Are you the dangerous one of the Three Musketeers?" Simmons questioned.

He gave her a wolfish smile, "You'll have to figure that out yourself. If you're partial to bad boys, go with Sitwell and Ward."

"And you're not a bad boy?" Simmons teased.

"Most assuredly not a bad **_boy_** , Simmons." He grinned at her and she felt her heart skip a beat.

No, no, no, he was most assuredly a **_man_**.

Fortunately, she was passed off to Phil Coulson shortly afterwards.

**_Phil "Zombie" Coulson, 50. Level 8. Single. Never married. Commendation for attempting to take on Loki one on one. Was severely injured, rumor is that he was dead for weeks and that whatever came back, really isn't the sane,_ **

His hands were cooler than she anticipated, and she realized that she was shaking.

"Nervous? It's ok."

He possessed a very kind smile and gentle eyes, and that just made her fear even worse.


	5. Skye, Social Calendar

The dance ended quickly and Phil Coulson tilted his head. "Thank you for the dance," he stated.

"It was lovely dancing with you," she lied.

"Was it?" he asked, as though he really wanted to be assured that she had a lovely dance. "I'm out of practice."

"Wonderful," she lied.

There had been something off about his touch, one moment too loose, another time almost painful and his touch was chilly. However, he seemed happy that she enjoyed her dance with him, but there was sense of quiet desperation about him as though he really needed to believe her.

"Seems Skye wants you to come back to the table," Phil informed her.

* * *

Dancing with Simmons had been nerve-wracking.

Since Phil had come back, and come back wrong, he lacked the most basic human sensation - touch. The littlest things he once took for granted, handshakes for example, were a source of high anxiety for him now. Limp handshakes were frowned upon, but too hard a grip and he'd break fingers. Dancing, was even worse, as he wasn't sure about his hand placement or how much pressure he was applying.

The doctors informed him that his tactile anesthesia was actually psychosomatic. That it would return. Promise, promise, promise, once he dealt with whatever trauma he refused to face head on. For now, he lived a life where he had to constantly check the temperature to make sure he was dressed appropriately, that he wouldn't scald himself or …

And Simmons was nervous with him.

Correction, she was terrified of him.

Couldn't blame her as she was a twenty five years old woman with two doctorates who was facing the very horrific possibility of bedding a fifty year old Zombie Robot with a receding hairline. He had refused to answer the questionnaire, refused to do one single thing with this insanity and Melinda May had forced him – at gun point – to come to this meet n' greet.

And he heard the rumors how he was Wolverine Mean, and foaming at the moon mad… which meant what was in circulation was a thousand times worse.

What sane woman would want zombie babies to love?

_Oh, isn't little Phillie cute? Oh, ickie, his little itty bitty arm just fell off._

"Blake and Garrett are both good guys," he blurted. "You could do worse than them."

_Like me, for example._

She stopped walking towards Skye and she tilted her head. "What does that make you?"

What did that make him? A lonely zombie?

"You said I was a decent dancer?" he offered.

Unexpectedly, Simmons smiled and it was like a fucking sunrise.

His first glimmer of light after two years of pitch black darkness.

* * *

Jemma Simmons returned back to the table, grateful that Sitwell and Ward had slunk off to their sewers like the rats they were. Since there were a great many open seats, she decided to sit next to Blake, and the absolutely adorable Winston.

An obviously rattled Skye put on a fake smile and attempted to get the Mating of Jemma Simmons back on track.

"I thought tomorrow would be a good time to start you on the solo dates," Skye began.

"Sorry, got plans," Garrett quipped while the other men agreed.

"What?" Skye asked.

"We're actually going out with Fitz tomorrow tonight," Garrett barked.

Skye's fake smile fled to Vegas, taking her sanity with her. "You're dating…  _Fitz_?"

Her voice was most assuredly a squeak. After all this was her first outing as a Social Coordinator and it had sunk faster than the Titanic. Two candidates had been kicked off the island, the band had just started another chorus of "Nearer My God to Thee" and apparently one, if not more, of the eligible (And elderly) bachelors were at least a 2 on the Kinsey Scale.

It was back the paperwork dungeon for her, where files upon files of paper expense reports waited for her.

Plus Fury had ordered her to "NOT ! %#$# $ screw this one up or I'll make you # % #$P% #P$% regret it." Plus or minus a few P(P *%

"We're taking Fitz out for a drink or four," Blake quietly stated.

"Naturally, he's concerned about Simmons…" Coulson began.

"Jemma," inserted Skye as Rule #1 was that the victims…. No… the involved parties needed to use their first names. To promote a sense of friendship, like they have a CHOICE in this rather personal matter.

"And wanted to get us to know better to confirm that our intentions are honorable," continued Coulson.

"Oh," Skye stated as she stared at the horrified Fitz who looked like all the world… no, all the universe… as though he was screaming ' _ **Help Me**_ ' at the top of his Scottish lungs. Then she tried again. "So, your solo date with Agent Blake…"

"Felix," slyly inserted John Garrett who realized that Social Coordinator Skye was close to cracking like an egg.

"F-f-f-felix… Will be the next night?" The social coordinator's voice trembled.

"Group," the men (including Fitz) informed her.

"What are you planning?" Skye asked.

"Blake?" Garrett asked.

"Felix," Coulson snarked.

"A surprise," the startled Blake immediately stated. "Wear jeans."

"Now, that's settled," Skye continued, as though everything was just going just … swimmingly. She pulled out a Stark Pad and handed it to Simmons. "Here's the reveals on the questionnaires. Since we're down to just three possible bachelors, there's only three for you to review."

"I never filled one out," Coulson protested. "I never filled …  ** _GARRETT_** …."

"John," Skye announced before she flushed. GOD, they were breaking her! And they were all supposed to be on the same side.

John Garrett shook his head, and Blake also denied his involvement in the spontaneous completed appearance of Coulson's unanswered questionnaire.

"Well, Agent Coulson," Skye began.

"Phil," chorused Garrett, Blake and God help her, FITZ.

"Someone did."

God, it was a whimper.

"I didn't," Phil protested even while Garrett took the Stark Pad from Simmons.

The older agent browsed for a bit, and shook his head after he reviewed it. "Captain American Fan Boy, reading novels, and your obscene enjoyment of classical music."

"I find it calming," Protested Phil

"I find it snooze-ville. It's all in there, all the Coulson Quirks. If you didn't fill it out, someone who knew you very well completed it."

Jemma Simmons took back the Stark Pad and smiled. "Well, it's time for me to go home as it's a very early morning for me tomorrow. Meeting you three, it's been very….," she paused, searching for the right word to truthfully state how the evening had gone (But vague enough so not to offend anyone).

"Horrifying?" Felix quipped.

"Terrifying?" was Coulson's suggestion.

"Absolutely fucking fantastic?" Garrett inserted.

"Bloody traumatic, and nightmare inducing," Fitz helpfully suggested, which cause Garrett to roar and give him a friendly backslap that nearly caused Fitz to land face first on the table.

"I like him," roared Garrett, while Fitz whimpered in true pain. He turned to face his trapped audience, and exclaimed, once more, "I like him!"

* * *

Jemma Simmons returned back to her apartment and attempted to secure the door behind her. In her haste to escape her life, she shut the door on Fitz. He managed to push his way in and then he took one look at her and headed toward the fridge.

He returned with two bottles.

"You didn't bring one for yourself?" she asked.

Fitz smiled and handed her a bottle.

"They want me to go drinking with them tomorrow," he whined. "I think Garrett nearly broke a few ribs when he backslapped me."

"If you're trying to sympathize, you're completely failing at making me feel better," she snippily informed him. "Drinking with them, doesn't compare to … "

She refused to say more.

"I'll get you another beer," he offered.

"Quickly," she ordered, even as she curled up on the couch. "Then I can read off their answers to their questionnaires and you can guess who they are. For example, who likes astronomy and plays acoustic guitar?"

Fitz pondered for a moment and announced, "Easy, it's Blake. Calluses on his left finger tips. Not so noticeable on his right so I'm assuming he uses a pick."

"One for One. Who like cuddling on a Sunday morning?" She asked.

Fitz didn't even ponder the question before he announced, "Coulson."

"How did you know?" Jemma asked.

"He didn't fill out a questionnaire, so someone else answered his questions. No straight man would have put that down as an answer. Let me look at Coulson's questionnaire," he requested as he pulled the Stark Pad from her hands. He reviewed it for a bit, compared it to the other two men's questionnaires and shook his head and gave it back to her. "A female answered that."

"How do you know?" Simmons asked.

"There's a sensitivity to his answers that Garrett and Blake don't quite have. So either a female, or the rare mythological unicorn known as a gay male who is touch with his emotions, answered it. Since I haven't seen a unicorn…."

"Because you're not a virgin," Jemma helpfully inserted.

"It's a female." Fitz continued.

"Fitz," Jemma pleaded as her composure was about to shatter. "I… I…."

He sat next to her and gave her a one-armed embrace. And he let her cry.


	6. Fitz and his Little Green Monkeys

In this AU, Garrett is not Hydra. He's just a sassy smart ass who is loyal to SHIELD.

* * *

Garrett, Blake, Coulson and Winston, too, headed to Garrett's apartment. Winston was de-vested and he promptly went into Blake's bedroom for a nice, long snooze. After all, it was quite exhausting keeping Felix out of trouble, let alone Phil and John.

"On the positive side, she didn't faint twice," Garrett announced as he pulled three beers out of the fridge.

"Not even a quiver of an eye roll," Blake inserted. "However, I did detect the whiff of fear."

"She did look like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming tractor trailer," admitted Coulson.

"Can't blame her," Garrett announced after he took a long swig from the bottle. "No doubt when she was having daydreams of the possible husbands, she didn't anticipate damaged men old enough to be her father."

"Maybe, it's a good thing," Felix slowly spoke. His voice was barely above a whisper. "Because when you've been completely fucked over as we have been, you're not quite as willing to have someone else experience it."

"Especially when she's a pretty girl?" Garrett asked.

"I admit that I feel less sympathy for your myriad issues," Blake dryly admitted. "You are pretty fugly, Garrett."

Garrett retorted a long obscene physical impossibility and Blake shook his head. "Why do I let you live here?"

"You and Phil have fifty percent custody of the kid, so I switch between Mom and Dad," Garrett explained. "So where are we going on 'date' night, Blakey?"

"No fucking clue," Blake admitted. "Can we talk about anything else?"

The three men, being men, argued about sports (basketball, and baseball – though Garrett was quite partial to hockey), who was the bigger ass, Sitwell or Ward,(Ward as at least Sitwell had a sense of humor and could make a decent pot of coffee which redeemed him in Felix's eyes) who had the better hair line (Felix), who'd win in an all-out battle to the death between Hulk and Godzilla (Hulk as he was scrappy and mobile), should Garrett get another Harley (Yes, but update his life insurance policy due to his spectacular crash that hadn't really been his fault as really the bear had lumbered in front of him but it had been pretty ugly, and no, they really didn't want to hear the story about how he managed to do a back flip off the bike and put one shot between the bear's eyes to ease him out of his misery but since he was telling it again (and lying badly) Coulson could get them another round of drinks) but they didn't mention how much they'd prefer if they weren't in this rather unique situation with Jemma Simmons.

Phil Coulson returned to his apartment (fortunately in the same building) and called Melinda May. She answered immediately.

"I know you wanted the details. She seemed pleasant…." Coulson admitted to May. "However, much too young for me."

"That's the idea," Melinda murmured.

"My questionnaire was filled out by someone who knew me quite well," Coulson continued. "However, some of the answers didn't put into consideration my tactile anesthesia, which means… you and Maria as you believe it's all in my head. Why did you fill it out?"

She said nothing.

"I mean, I find it hard to believe that this was completely chosen at random. I mean, it was almost like someone found the three most damaged senior agents they could, and forced them to deal with Sitwell and Ward just…." He stopped before he added, 'to force us to protect Simmons from those two idiots.'

"Sweet mother of God," he spat. He hung up on her and dialed Felix.

Blake was brilliant at seeing patterns lost among minutiae which made him one of SHIELD's top most analysts and field officers. He must have seen what was happening and for some reason, he hadn't commented.

Garrett answered Felix's cell phone and Phil asked for Felix.

"What's the array on Simmons?" he snapped when Felix answered the phone.

Felix took a minute and began to reciting what he had recognized in a very crisp, dry tone. From the timbre of his voice Coulson knew Felix was deeply disturbed.

"Level 8. PTSD due to traumatic resuscitation. Hit the wall, hard. Attempts to install false memories to replace memories of conscious brain surgery failed. Level 7. PTSD due to being buried for forty eight hours, physical trauma and extensive stay in the hospital. Claustrophobic, snappishness, noted concerns about possible OCD with rituals and repetition. Level 7. PTSD due to extensive time in burn-trauma unit. All three senior agents have been documented as being withdrawn and emotionally detached with…. With… junior agents expressing…. logical concerns….about being assigned to any missions that are being overseen by these three agents due to their extreme detachment….to their inferiors…" Felix stopped.

"Fuck," Coulson whispered.

"Level 5. Two doctorates, including one on …." Felix paused. "The over reliance of genetic and medication modification of bioreceptors in individuals experiencing Post Traumatic Stress."

"Fuck," Garrett swore as Felix had placed his phone on speaker. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I can't turn it off," Felix spoke quickly, far quicker than his norm. "I see patterns, and designs, configurations and arrays in everything. Even when it's not really there, I see things and…. I just can't turn it off and I just wanted to be fucking normal for once. To actually go on a date with a pretty girl and… I just wanted to be fucking normal again. To not constantly judge how safe I'd be if the building collapsed when I'm sitting in a room. I can't even use a fucking elevator for fuck's sake without my legs shaking."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Coulson asked.

"Because I hoped I was wrong, that it was just the OCD talking and talking… and talking," Blake admitted.

"Getting Winston," Garrett stated before he left the conversation.

"Talk to me," Coulson ordered even as he grabbed his keys and headed toward Felix's apartment.

"They chose us deliberately, because she's a just fucking kid and… they knew how we'd react – that she'd hit all our fucking buttons. Because at this stage of our lives, we realized how much gave up for SHIELD and we're doubting it was worth it. OWWW!" Felix protested.

"Good night, Blakey," Garrett rumbled.

"You drugged me."

"Yup." John Garrett was succinct.

"You **_drugged_** me."

"That I did," Garrett rumbled. "Least I gave you the really good stuff."

Phil arrived just as Garrett was putting a drowsy Blake to bed. Winston was not sure of what was happening so he was staying quite close to Blake and looking not too happily at Garrett.

"He's been on one of his insomnia jag where he paces the floor and playing his guitar at all hours. When he started talking that fast, I knew that he needed to get some sleep before he crashed hard," explained Garrett. "I think he's been up since I showed up on Tuesday. Claire also quit on him."

"No great loss," Coulson murmured as well, Claire couldn't even make coffee. Instant coffee. "What happened?"

"She had another string of Clairiesms and he snapped at her when she complained that she was allergic to Winston. Quote 'he's mean' and 'I have feelings, too' in the complaint to HR."

"Uncaring, heartless son of a bitch actually," mumbled Felix.

"Apparently, you're not the only one," deadpanned Coulson. "Get some sleep. Garrett and I have a date to plan."

The two men walked out of Blake's bedroom and they stared at each other.

"Bowling?" Garrett asked even while Phil grimaced and mouthed, "Bowling."

"She already thinks we need to be in a retirement home, do we need to promote that idea?"

"Parachuting?" was the next hopeful and totally ridiculous suggestion.

"You're **_hopeless_** , it's no wonder you're not married," Phil snapped.

"What's your excuse, Romeo?" Garrett retorted.

"I died," Phil dryly reminded him. "But this should be somewhat… personal?"

"Think Blake would give a concert on his guitar?" Garrett asked.

Phil shook his head. Then he snapped his fingers, "Does he still have his telescope?"

"Excuse me, would you like to see my etchings?" Garrett snarked but then he turned serious. "He mentioned something about a convergence that's occurring soon. So, picnic dinner, we'll have to go off the grid because of the interference from the lights. Maybe Connecticut, we'll need the Jeep."

* * *

Skye saw Jemma Simmons in the SHIELD hallways, and Simmons fled.

"No, no, no, we're not talking swatches," she protested when Skye caught up with her.

"Of course not," Skye insisted.

Jemma Simmons stopped dead and Skye nearly tackled her.

"We are most assuredly not deciding if I'm enduring natural childbirth," Jemma protested, her voice close to panicking.

"No, no, no!" Skye bubbled. "I thought we could have a girl's night tonight as Fitz is doing whatever with the boys."

Jemma hissed, "They're most assuredly NOT BOYS. I think they're all card carrying members of the AARP."

"Hey, I thought you were cool with that last night? You were the one that commented bigger pensions, bigger penis, weren't you?"

Jemma glared at Skye and she carefully enunciated, "Perhaps if you were in my soon to be spread position, you might feel differently."

Skye deflated, and nodded her head. "No, I'd feel exactly the same way, except I'd be hacking the hell out the computer system in the hopes of funding my escape. So your place at seven?"

"Bring the wine," Jemma ordered. "And the Pizza."

"Chick flicks?" Skye asked.

"My life is poorly written chick flick, so something with a strong female protagonist would be a delight. Or just scantily clad men who are under thirty and are built."

" ** _Terminator_**!" Skye bubbled.

Jemma's face was flat when she didn't smile.

"Oh, Zombie Robot dude with the sharp suit," Skye sighed. "Sorry. How about **_Gladiator_**?"

* * *

Fitz and Jemma's three possible suitors were sitting in the corner of a bar. He smiled, nervously, and the other three men smiled… grimaced back…

"So," Garrett began. "Celtic or Rangers Football Club?"

"Rangers," Fitz admitted, and that started the inquisition of Leopold Fitz with him and John Garrett matching drink for drink.

* * *

"This isn't good," Coulson said to Felix as they pushed, pulled and provoked the two drunks into the Jeep.

"He outdrank John!" Felix exclaimed. "I didn't think that was physically possible."

The two men, who had stopped drinking half a liver or so ago, sighed.

"At least they're both happy drunks," Felix dryly admitted.

"I just wish they were quieter," Phil growled.

"It would be better if they could carry a tune," was Blake's dark comment as the two happy drunks began another chorus of "Someone to Love".

"I love you," Garrett assured Coulson and Blake during a break in the song. "Love you both like brothers, and regardless of this Simmons situation….that's never gonna change."

"She's not a Simmons Situation," Fitz slurred as he forcibly poked Garrett. "She's _Jemma_."

"Right, Leopold. God, I **_love_** this kid even if he likes the Rangers," Garrett announced even as he hugged Fitz tightly. "You trust us with Jemma right?"

"You hurt her, I'll kill you…. Painfully," Fitz assured Garrett.

"That's cool, because you can trust Philly and Felix with her. Me, not so much, so you tell her to be nice to Phil and Felix. They're responsible adults, me, not so much. I'm good for fucking, fun and fighting, not much else."

Fitz giggled and Garrett hugged him once more. It was a rough embrace. "We need to stop at a pet shop and buy this kid a monkey as a thank you for all the information he gave us on Jemma tonight. How about a green monkey?"

Fitz giggled again even while Blake and Coulson stared at each other.

"They're a polygynous bunch, so we'd need to get a male money and a few female monkeys," Fitz excitedly explained. "I could have a whole family of little green monkeys!"

Garett laughed and leaned towards Fitz, "I know Simmons is a nice girl, but do you think…. She'd be interested in a polyandry relationship with Felix and Phil? That way any kids would have two fathers, based on the Tibetan concept of Partible paternity."

Felix Blake turned to Phil Coulson and roared, " ** _HIT THE GAS_**."

Meanwhile, Garrett decided to continue his serenade of his captive audience.

 _Been beat up and battered 'round_  
Been sent up, and I've been shot down  
Simmon's the best thing that we've ever found!

_Handle Phil with care_   
_Reputations changeable_   
_Situations tolerable_   
_But baby, you're adorable_   
_Handle Phil with care_   
_Felix is so tired of being lonely_   
_He still have some love to give_   
_Won't you show me that you really care..._

"I used to like the Traveling Wilburys," protested Felix.

"Same here."


	7. Sitwell Strikes Back

Fitz was blitzed.

Absolutely blitzed.

Phil Coulson and Felix Blake supported him while he staggered to his room. To her horror (as what could be worse than her BFF getting trashed with the Elderly Trio) John Garrett sat down between her and Skye and smiled. Drunkenly.

"Felix and Phil are really good men," he informed her. "You could do a lot worse than them. You could be stuck with me, as I'm just good for….the three f's. That's …. Fun… fighting… and…"

The smile on his face left nothing to her imagination, then he leaned towards Skye who looked like she desired to run for the hills.

"Go do something social," he brusquely ordered. "I need to talk to Simmons."

Skye fled the scene (the brat) and John Garrett turned sober, which meant the entire drunk bit was an act.

"I want to talk to you about Blake. He's got OCD, so sometimes, he gets … odd. He has really struggled with it and people can be vicious. Winston's helped a great deal, but sometimes, Blake gets in his head so deep he can't find his way out due his personal demons. Please cut him some slack if he starts acting odd. And if he gets too deep in his head, you contact me or Phil. Please."

She nodded once.

"Thank you," he said. "Now, continuing on, what they say about Phil isn't true. He's not a zombie or a vampire and he sure as hell doesn't sparkle in the sun. The truth is, he got hurt really bad and it's been a long recovery for him. He's a really good man. One of the best."

Simmons tried to smile but failed, "So, what about you?"

"Call me Porthos," he quipped. With that, he retreated back in his supposed drunken stupor until he exited her apartment with Coulson and Blake, after promising to see her tomorrow night for date night, leaving Jemma Simmons completely confused about one John Garrett.

* * *

Jasper Sitwell could charm the knickers off a nun, so it was surprisingly easy for his goal of revenge to be achieved.

"He'll fucking freak," he chortled. Part of him, the decent Jasper was concerned, deeply concerned that his victim might not find it funny, but the evil Jasper didn't care.

Ward laughed.

"When he walks into his office, and sees her, he'll flip."

* * *

Felix Blake had a long night where his mind raced and raced like a gerbil in a wheel.

Claire had quit.

 ** _Quit_**.

She had quit before. Numerous times. Claimed he was unstable and every other word he had ever called himself.

But she had always returned after he crawled on broken glass and admitted that he was an ass. After he bought her a triple espresso with four sugars and three shots of vanilla and a half shot of caramel and a cinnamon bun.

So rationally, he knew that she's probably be there in the morning, but that voice that wouldn't… just wouldn't… shut up was yapping 'She quit!'

If she had really quit, he'd have to get to work earlier tomorrow so he could review his analysis for Yalta.

There were agents that were depending on his analysis, to make sure every angle was measured, every possibility thought out but his mind was racing, racing, racing because people could die, and would die, if he fucked this up and he needed to be on the ball and if he had a new assistant who… couldn't fucking make coffee and he was back in the collapsed building, feeling the weight of the debris on top of him, feeling it shift, know that he was going to die, die, die and… he just wanted … wanted… wanted… to move his legs, but … they were broken… broken.. and…. and…they fucking hurt …. Hurt… and every time he tried to breath, the weight shifted and… he screamed and no one could hear him… and… Jemma Simmons was there… in the debris and it was his fault, because she wasn't part of the equation and he hadn't been thorough and… it was his fault, because losing Claire had rattled him because he had gotten used to her, had learned to depend on her and she had left, left left, and he hadn't been thorough and… he had made a mistake and Simmons was hurt and …. They were all gonna die because he had forgotten to reread page four.

He just needed to be at his best, to be fucking perfect… because if he wasn't, someone would die and it would be his fault.

At three in the morning, he just gave up. He'd just make it an early day. A very early day.

"Winston, come on, time for work."

* * *

Felix noticed immediately, that her desk was bare.

A quick inspection showed that everything was gone, including her secret stash of red Twizzlers.

He could handle this.

He could get through the debriefing and do it well. He didn't need Claire. All he needed was his whiteboard and Winston, because really Winston was a far better assistant than Claire, she of the inability to make coffee. Winston was a much better listener, didn't interrupt and never, ever left early to get his nails done. Plus Winston accepted Felix Blake for the utter nutter that he was and all he asked was for the Frisbee to be thrown.

He ran through the various self-calming techniques until his heart rate was down. He could do the debriefing easily. Everything had been quadrupled check, especially page four, so no would die, as ridiculous as that was, and … he was in a good spot.

Until he walked out from his office to discover his new assistant was…. Skye who was blasting hip n' hop and dancing in her chair.

"Hey, Agent Blake," she chirped. "I'm your temp."

His zen flittered off to parts unknown.

* * *

Phil Coulson entered the debriefing and he noticed, immediately, that Felix Blake was not in a good head space. Fortunately, he was early enough so he positioned himself next to Felix. As he was leading the meeting, he was also able to skillfully guide the debriefing so Blake was able to report his findings to the various senior agents.

"Good job, Blake, you covered everything very thoroughly," Coulson murmured.

"I'm very good at thoroughness," the other agent agreed. Then in a failed attempt at humor, he added, "Obsessive one might even say."

"You ok?"

"Claire's working for Sitwell now," Blake explained. "My new temp, our social coordinator. Sitwell, again. I think it's payback for the bit at dinner. He wanted to rattle me, see how I'd self-destruct. She sits at the desk and sings really bad pop songs, Phil. In Mandarin. Which I'm fluent in. 'Uh oh.' It's in my head!"

"You didn't have anything to do with that Margaretta and the girls, that was Garrett and me," Phil protested.

"I'm the weakest link of the three of us," Blake reminded him.

Phil just shook his head.

"Do you ever get tired of being the running joke?" Blake quietly asked.

"Of being the butt of every Zombie joke? Yes," Coulson admitted. "I try to laugh, but I want them to feel what I endured. See if they're laughing then."

"Which is worse? Feeling **_everything_** so strongly that your mind has to race and race to process it? Or not feeling anything at all?" Blake asked. "I think I envy you, being comfortably numb."

"I know I envy you," Phil admitted.

"Don't," Blake requested. "How long have I known Simmons? Two, three days? And I wonder… wonder… **_wonder_** what it would be like to be normal with her. To not live in constant fear that my idiosyncrazies will decide to make a command appearance. I'm tired of being ridiculed, it's like people don't realize that I know how insane my behavior is. I know how crazy it is, but it's like… scratching an annoying itch. I scratch and scratch until I'm bleeding and I can't stop."

"You are sane," Phil firmly stated.

"You and our cyborg buddy are the only ones that think so," Blake reminded him. "Speaking of which, don't tell Big Brother John about Sitwell. Borg Boy has this pathological need to protect people."

"He feels that he owes you since you saved his life," Coulson reminded Blake. "You rechecked that analysts' intel and realized that he had completely screwed up the data and Garrett needed a new extrication plan. He's just looking out for you, like you do for me and him. The three of us watch each other's back."

"Problem is his way of looking out for me usually involves him punching someone," protested Blake. "I'm not a fair maiden in distress."

"Agreed, especially with that stubble," Coulson retorted which caused them both to laugh.

"Why don't you take an early day?" Coulson suggested. "You have to plan for date night."

Blake rolled his eyes.

Meanwhile John Garrett had overheard their conversation, well, enough of it for him to walk over to Sitwell's office. He barged in, told him to take off his glasses and then he punched him. Since Ward was chortling in Sitwell's office, Garrett decided to punch Ward also.

After all, it had been a whole three months, two weeks, six days and forty seven minutes since Garrett was last suspended for punching someone, so it was time for another long chat with Fury on how not to handle his aggression.

"You think it's funny to fuck with Blake?" He asked the stunned Sitwell. "Only if you're man enough to fuck with me first, Jasper."

* * *

She decided that it would be a nice day for a walk for lunch as the weather was perfect. She had just left the building when she saw Felix Blake and Winston. Blake de-vested Winston and Winston the Serious Service Dog turned into Winston, Wonder Puppy, which meant that he ran over to Simmons and wagged his docked tail in sheer happiness.

"Winston!" Blake protested. "Don't make me vest you."

Winston rolled his eyes and then nudged Jemma's hand for a scratch.

"Vest him?" she asked.

"If he's not wearing the vest, he's off duty. If he's vested, he has to behave. He needs time off to be a dog, however, if he insists on acting like this, I may keep him vested until we get into the car."

Winston pouted. Really. A big pout which caused Jemma to laugh and scratch his adorable face.

"You're such a love, Winston," Jemma insisted. She realized that Felix Blake appeared very uncomfortable and she felt a moment's compassion for him. "Are you on lunch? Do you want to get lunch? I know a really good Armenian place nearby."

"I…. I…." Blake stuttered and then shook his head. "Gotta go. See you tonight."

And Blake made his escape while Winston jogged happily alongside.


	8. Flying Garrett Airlines

"Harem of a certain age" is from Lachesis Grimm, as she is brilliant.

* * *

John Garrett, newly suspended SHIELD agent, whistled a happy tune. He even cracked his knuckles, which thankfully remained unbroken.

"See you in a week," he reminded the also suspended Sitwell and Ward who wore matching black eyes.

Nick Fury gave him a hairy eyeball and John Garrett widely smiled.

"I think I'll take a vacation as well, I'm still getting paid," he said, as he deliberately salted the open wound. "However, it was rather generous of you gentlemen to both donate two weeks' salary to Soldier's Animal Companions Fund."

He jauntily sauntered out and then once he closed the office door, he stretched his painful back, until his vertebrae popped. "Damn cybernetics," he growled. "You'd think they'd be able to do something about the pain."

He had been rebuilt using the finest in cybernetics, and while his various replacement parts worked just as well, if not better than the originals, the nagging pain was constant. Some days better than others, some days a lot worst, but punching Sitwell… well… worth every single excruciating moment. And bitch slapping Ward, a big fat cherry on the four scoop vanilla ice cream with hot fudge and sprinkles with extra real whipped cream sundae.

His phone vibrated so he pulled it out of his pocket. Like he anticipated, it was a profound, profanity laced text from one irked Phil Coulson, but Garrett smiled when he saw that Coulson had added a "Thanks for doing what I would have done. Since your sorry ass is suspended, and you've got time to kill, here's what you need to pick up for tonight. I've already paid."

Baguettes, assorted cheeses and exotic meats for sandwiches, fruit, graham crackers, chocolate and marshmallows were part of the list plus an address for Phil's supplier.

"Coulson, you old romantic, you. Smores?"

* * *

Phil seemed to be really happy with Garret's recent bad behavior as Phil's supplier (GROCER, Coulson had long futilely protested as comparisons to his supplier and drug dealers irked him) had a small package set up just for John Garrett, defender of the downtrodden and ridiculed.

"Biltong beef jerky," he guessed, as it was something he had picked up a taste for when he had been in South Africa for a long tour with nothing to do. And with the economy being ass over tit after the battle of New York, well, it was pretty rare.

"Four bags," the supplier informed him.

And not the small sample bags either, but the pound bags.

Agent Coulson was quite delighted with his Strike Team, it seemed.

* * *

Jemma Simmons strolled for a bit, lunched, returned back to HQ and discovered the bane of her existence, well, one of them, Skye, in her office. The young social coordinator looked absolutely horrid, eyes red-rimmed and mascara smeared.

"What happened?" Jemma asked.

"F-f-fury," she admitted. "Garrett punched Sitwell and Ward because they harassed Blake because of what happened at the bar. Because I let everything get out of control, I've been permanently assigned to be Blake's assistant and I have to learn how to make… coffee. **_Good_** coffee…which is hard to do as I destroyed his coffee machine. I'm also not to play music when I'm in the office. No singing either. I'm to be seen and most assuredly not heard."

"What happened to Claire?" Simmons asked, as Claire Weiss was the subject of much sympathy among the lower SHIELD agents due to her role as Blake minder.

"She threw a snit and quit, which she does with regularly frequency, normally she just shows up the next day like nothing happened, however Sitwell convinced her to request a transfer…. And … and… Fury shredded her up and down and right and left, told her the only reason she wasn't out on the street panhandling was because Agent Blake has repeatedly covered her screw ups. And that loyalty like hers would be properly rewarded."

Simmons' expressive British mouth dropped.

"Sitwell and Ward plus Claire… are being sent to the Contamination Zone for a month to help with the cleanup. It's safe, but they'll have to wear the Zoot Suits. Speaking of Zoot Suits… what are you wearing tonight?"

"What?" This conversation was making no sense.

"I'm still your social coordinator and… if I fuck this up, I'll only wish I was Claire."

* * *

At their prearranged meeting space, in front of Blake and Coulson's apartment building, Jemma and her Harem of a Certain Age plus their chaperones (two humans and one dog) were trying to figure out the car situation.

"Since they're seven of us," John Garrett began, "We will need to take two cars to the airport. Blake's got his jeep, so Winston and Simmons with him."

Blake froze.

"I'll take the rest in mine. Everyone ready to go?" Garrett continued as he completely ignored Blake's silent scream for help.

"I should be with Simmons," Skye suggested.

"Don't worry, she'll be fine. Felix is an absolute gentleman." Coulson assured Skye.

"Besides he'll need one hand for the wheel and one for the shift," offered a very unhelpful Garrett.

"And after the incident with the coffee…." Coulson continued as though he hadn't been interrupted.

Garrett nodded his head in agreement.

"I never saw that type of machine before," protested Skye. "I didn't get an inservice!"

"And it's not likely you'll ever see another Bonavita BV1800 again," snapped Blake. "You turned it into a fireball."

"As I was saying," smoothly inserted a very somber Coulson. "Probably best if you are not in the same car. Blake's taking the loss very hard as it will be almost impossible to replace."

Phil winked at Simmons and the corner of his mouth was turned up slightly which made him surprisingly cute. For a Zombie.

"It's almost like Coulson didn't show up every morning, coffee cup clutched in his hand, begging for a cup," Garrett inserted. "Our beloved Bonavita brewed coffee to the perfect temperature as each coffee bean willingly gave up its life so others could survive the Fury morning meeting. It was like liquid ambrosia straight from the heavens. Should we have a moment of silence? Perhaps Skye could say a few words, beyond, 'Ooops!'."

Silence.

Long silence.

"Agent, we're waiting for your eulogy," Coulson prompted.

"I really fucked up," Skye admitted which caused Garrett and Coulson to stifle laughter.

"It's just a fucking coffee machine," snapped Blake. Then in a very dry tone, he added, "A really good fucking coffee machine... which is now molten piece of modern art defying any and all attempts at categorizing it. However, Agent, what did you learn from this experience?"

Skye stared at her feet and finally she mumbled, "Always make sure there is water in the coffee pot before I make coffee."

Garrett couldn't help it, he started laughing. Hard. "Time to get to the airport."

"Airport?" Simmons asked, as she was getting very confused.

"We're heading to a dark sky park for some night time stargazing. It's located in Pennsylvania," explained Blake. "Garrett's flying us there."

"Wait until you see the size of Blake's telescope," Garrett offered which caused Coulson to wince. "He's got an eight inch…."

"John?" Blake questioned.

"Optical tube," John Garrett looked confused and then smiled a very bad boy smile. "Are you embarrassed because you've got an eight inch …"

"JOHN!" Coulson hissed in obviously pretend horror. "There are ladies present."

"Optical tube. It's a sweet telescope. Not like the one I had when I was in high school, but honestly, stars weren't the heavenly globes I was using it to view. What? Why is everyone looking at me like that? You know the old saying, difference between men and boys? It's the…"

"Price," inserted Coulson and Blake.

"Size of their toys," Garrett merrily continued. "Go grab your stuff, time's a wasting."

* * *

Fitz grabbed her jacket and shook his head. "The three of them are pretty funny, aren't they? They're not what you anticipated, was it?"

"What do you mean?" Jemma asked.

"That the three of them are really tight and the rumors to the contrary, they seem pretty sane," explained Fitz. "Coulson and Garrett teased Blake and he took it well."

"They weren't cruel about it," Simmons decided. No, they had been rather droll and took as well as they gave.

"No, not like Sitwell and Blake," Fitz stated. "They think they're funny but they're not."

"Why do you say that?" Simmons asked.

"I've seen the three of them together. Blake didn't tense up. When he deals with other agents, he's very tense, very rigid in how he stands. When he's with Coulson or Garrett, he's relaxed…. Well… relaxed for him. Same with Coulson, he's usually quite terse normally."

"And Garrett?" Simmons asked.

"He's Garrett," Fitz said. "Now go, Bachelor #5 is waiting for you in his Jeep."

* * *

She buckled herself in the passenger's seat and then she smiled at Felix Blake. "What's a dark sky park?"

"Too much light pollution and you can't see the stars. I mean, you can, but… not…clear. You don't see the Milky Way or Andromeda," he explained as he shifted his Jeep into gear. "Have you done any…. Stargazing?"

"Never," she admitted.

"Some people… really like it," he slowly offered. Then in a much softer voice, "And some people… really don't."

They were at a stop light and she noticed that he was knocking his left hand against the driver' window. Rhythmically… compulsively… but his hand was clenched tightly as though he was struggling to stop.

"Skye's my new assistant as Claire really quit this time," he blurted. "She was singing this horrible song in Mandarin. Sadly, I am fluent in Mandarin and she kept singing it over and over again. It's god awful and it's wormed its way into my brain. I'm more annoyed about that than I am about her destroying my coffee pot."

"I hate when a song wiggles into my brain," she said. "I find myself tapping my toes at the most inappropriate times."

He nodded his head before he spoke. However, Jemma noticed that his left hand had relaxed and the tapping wasn't quite so loud.

 _So,_ _it's when he's trying to control his tics, that they get worse. Which makes him only try harder which makes them more noticeable._

"Phil and John are good men," Felix abruptly informed her. "Garrett's a little loud, but he believes he's quite the wit. At times, he's actually funny but Phil's really deep. There's a lot that goes on in that mind of his."

Jemma nervously twittered and Blake recoiled, "I'm not joking. They're both damn good men."

"I'm not laughing at you," she protested. "Ok, maybe I am, but actually I'm laughing at you, Phil and John. Each one of you have taken the time to reassure me how wonderful the other two are. The only one of you who thinks he's absolutely wonderful and isn't afraid to let me kn _o_ w is Winston."

He nodded his head once and he didn't say another word. However, his left hand tightly clutched the steering wheel.

* * *

"Ok, who wants to be copilot?" asked Garrett when they finally arrived at the airport. He casually slouched near his car, but there's an awkwardness in his stance that Jemma Simmons realized comes from being in physical pain.

"I am," Felix Blake announced even while Skye excitedly waved her hand and did everything but jump up and down and then jump down and then up to gain Garrett's attention. Decision made, Blake opened his truck and began taking out his telescope and other items.

Phil Coulson glanced at Blake, saw how tightly controlled he was, and then his eyes shifted ever so slightly her way. His eyes narrowed, and then then mild mannered Phil Coulson appeared in his place.

"So this is your new Cessna, Garrett?" Phil asked.

"Won it in a poker game," John joyfully explained. "Did I tell you about it?"

"Heard that already, didn't believe it," Blake inserted. "There's no way you'd win this in a poker game."

"How about the story where the grateful Saudi princess gave it to him after saving her life?" Phil asked. He reached for the scope, and Blake shook his head.

"I'll let you guys pack, and I'll play stewardess with our guests," Garrett decided.

"Winston, follow Garrett," Blake ordered.

* * *

"There are four passenger seats, you need to sit next to Coulson," Skye hissed as Jemma, Skye and Fitz scouted out the plane. "This is a group date night. Date night means you do things with the guys. Not with Fitz and me, but the guys."

"You rode in with Blake and survived," Fitz explained.

"I think I upset him," Jemma protested. "Unintentionally."

"Then give him a makeup snog," Fitz suggested. "Don't do it halfsies, do it properly or not at all."

"That's good, really good, excellent dating advice from Fitz," Skye chirped, before she realized what she had just said.

"I date a great deal more than Simmons does," Fitz proudly admitted.

"He's bit of a slut like that," Simmons snapped.

His hands are placed just so on his hips and plastered on his face is a look of horrified disbelief. "Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are."

"Sister Jemma, get out of your habit and leave the cloister," Fitz snapped.

"Coulson's coming, get in the backseat," Skye said, even as she and Fitz physically pushed Simmons into the backseat.

Then Simmons found herself sitting next to Coulson. She shivered, and being a perfect Gentleman Zombie as he covered her with his light jacket. "Garrett likes keeping the air conditioning on high. I'm sorry, it's a little tight back here," which was an understatement as they were sitting quite close to each other, knee to knee and hip to hip.

Plus, Winston was sitting in their row. He was wearing a stylish set of Mutt Muffs on his ears and he was leaning his head on Phil's leg.

"Is he good with flying?" Jemma asked.

"Loves to go flying," Phil assured her even as Fitz and Skye sat in the row above them. "Put on your headset. You don't want to go deaf."

* * *

"You ok?" Garrett asked Blake. The two men were located outside of the plane and Garrett was concerned about Blake's behavior.

"Twitchy," was Blake's terse explanation. "I won't touch the stick, I promise. I just can't be back there with Sim….some of them. Not when I'm about to twitch out of my skin. How about you?"

"High pain day," Garrett tersely admitted. "I'll feel better when I'm flying. Promise. Let's do some flying. Let's get in and do the flight precheck."

Garrett sat in the pilot's seat and he adjusted his seat until he was moderately comfortable. Ok, somewhat uncomfortable. That done, he keyed his microphone. "Good afternoon, everyone. Welcome to Garrett Airlines, where we will be taking a quick flight to Pennsylvania for a night full of stargazing led by my co-pilot Felix Blake. Just a reminder in the case of an emergency…."

He continued to prattle for a bit, as he loved, loved, **_loved_ ** a captive audience, before he announced that they were about to leave the airport, however he just needed to do a final check. "Gotta kick the tires and light the fires," he announced. "Then we're off."

Jemma Simmons squeaked and it sounded as though John Garrett had stepped on Winston's favorite stuffed dragon with the multiple squeakers.

"Coulson," Garrett questioned. "Did you just… perhaps… behave inappropriately with Dr. Simmons?"

"GARRETT," growled Coulson.

"Just asking," Garrett explained. "It just sounded… highly… suggestive…."

"John, don't you have tires to kick?" Felix's exasperated voice echoed over everyone's headset. "Simmons, what's the problem?"

"No problem, none at all! None!" she lied. Most horribly as Skye shook her head at her while Fitz smirked as he knew why she had reacted so poorly to Garrett's choice of words. "Don't look at me like that, Skye. Don't you have an innocent coffee pot to set merrily ablaze?"

"If there's no problem then why are you shaking your head and trying to hide your face?" Coulson asked.

Felix clicked a few switches and tersely announced, "From the way Fitz is smirking, it's probably just a joke that we're the butt of. Like normal."

"No, no, not at all," Simmons insisted.

Coulson tapped her knee, pointed at her, then at Blake, and then gestured with his hands. **_What the hell?_**

She just shook her head and he nodded his head in tired understanding. He pulled out his Stark pad and tapped out a message.

**_CRANKY / CLAUSTROPHOBIC. IT'S REALLY BAD FOR HIM IN SMALL PLANES._ **

She gestured for the pad and he gave it to her.

**I laughed at something he said. Shouldn't have.**

**_Can't blame him. When you're an old man, it's rough when a pretty girl laughs at you._ **

**I didn't laugh at him. Really.**

**_I know. He overthinks a lot._ **

John Garrett returned back to the pilot seat and he closed the door **.**

"Are we ready, copilot?"

Blake nodded.

"Very well for our inflight entertainment, I have guitar music as performed by my copilot," Garrett announced even as guitar music filled their headsets.

"This means war," Blake growled.

"Pilot Garrett, are we there yet?" Skye asked.

"NO," Coulson, Blake and Fitz protested as it promised to be a very long flight.


	9. Stargazing

Coulson pondered Simmons' recent behavior after Garrett had innocently quipped about kicking the tires. He tapped his fingers on his seat for a bit and then the light dawned with a flash akin to a detonated A-Bomb.

"Whose tires are you planning on kicking?" He blurted even while a horrified Simmons squeaked again.

"Phil, I think you've forgotten that it's Open Mike Flight on Garrett Airlines, so everyone just heard that," Blake snarked over the headsets. "Seriously, how the hell did you ever become an 8?"

Coulson grabbed his jacket back from Simmons and deliberately and primly placed it over his lap. Then he put his hands on his lap, a physical fig leaf, if you would.

"Someone care to share the hahas with the pilot?" Garrett quipped.

"No!" squeaked Simmons.

"More squealing from the back, do I need to come back to separate you?" Garrett asked.

"Not at seven thousand feet," growled Blake.

Phil felt sympathy for Simmons as she was trying to hide. In the back seat of a six person plane. But he couldn't help the fact that he really wanted to laugh because it seemed that the trio shouldn't have been trying to protect Simmons, no, they should have been trying to protect themselves from Simmons! He really shouldn't laugh; that's why he couldn't face her. He couldn't look at Blake either, as Blake's shoulders were shaking as he was struggling not to laugh.

_Fifty years old men and kicking tires should not be in the same sentence! In fact, they most assuredly should not be in the SAME PARAGRAPH._

"Are we there yet?" Skye asked.

"No," Garrett answered.

* * *

Jemma Simmons wanted to die.

Or at least disappear, because the three bachelors, her Harem of a Certain Age, insisted on a quiet conversation in the middle of the stargazing site once they had arrived. The trio had intently talked about her reaction to Garrett's comment about kicking the tires even while Fitz and Skye had set up their picnic. The Harem had struggled to be circumspect and polite, but Garrett nearly choked when he realized what it meant, and then he had nervously pulled down his turtleneck to cover his groin, Coulson's jacket was placed just so in his hands so everything vital was covered and Blake's hard shell telescope case wasn't anything but Freudianly Phallic which caused him no end of embarrassment, and the three of them looked at her…. Horrified… and … bloody hell, Garrett noticed that where her gaze was focused, so he pointed at Phil Coulson… PHIL COULSON and stated something about Ultra High Performance All-Season Tires. Phil slapped Garrett's hand and then motioned toward Blake and his set of Grand Touring Tires, which caused Garrett to be declared as a set of Extreme Performance Drag Racing Radials.

She turned away from her Harem, hunched her shoulders and fled to a quiet part of their encampment, wishing for death. Or an earthquake that would swallow her whole. Simmons jumped when Phil Coulson touched her arm.

"Come on, don't do this," he softly protested. "Today's supposed to be a nice day for everyone, especially you, so come on, with me. We were just teasing each other, Simmons. It's what we do."

Then her Harem each spoke to her separately as they each apologized for making her feel uncomfortable, but really, they had only been joking with each other.

After she had promised, promised, **_promised_** Garrett that she wasn't angry with him, he hugged her. "Now, listen to me, if you're gonna kick tires, kick Felix. Tire kicking with him will be worth the trouble. Promise. He's very intense and very thorough in everything. He'll make your tire checking …. Pleasant."

"How do you know that?" Simmons asked.

He arched an eyebrow, gifted her with a bad man smile, and then shook his head. "Jemma… none of us will ask for information on who you kicked tires with, so return the favor."

Blake was all sharp angles and prickly points as his armor of self-defense was fully deployed, but he told her to bed Phil as he'd treat her very well (This discussion was held in the most diplomatic way possible as well, as he reminded her, they were all adults (with the exception of Garrett) and they weren't pretending that there was love involved). When Phil told to try out Garrett because Garrett would be … a great deal of fun…, she desired to scream.

Her womb was apparently the subject of interest for everyone. EVERYONE.

"What's the problem?" Coulson asked as she returned back to her Harem. It seemed Coulson was fluent at reading the Unhappy Simmons face.

"All three of you have very helpfully recommended another man if I was in the urge to kick some tires. Should I strip down now?" She requested. "Let you three have your way with me. It seems this particular matter is now out there for open debate."

God, she was going utter barmy as for a brief moment, she wondered what it would be like. Big mattress, with three men worshipping her, perhaps one mouth at each breast, one between her legs with a great deal of stroking with gentle hands. Then reality hit – Garrett would talk her to death, Blake would have charts and analysis and graphs and potential outcomes of various trajectories, while Coulson's touch would be stiff and chilly.

Blake grimaced and Garrett motioned for Coulson to speak as it seemed Coulson as the Senior Ranking Agent and Member of Jemma Simmons' Harem Consisting of a Certain Age Bracket was the Vox Populi or perhaps Vox Coniugis.

"No, no, **_no_**. Understand something, we're a great deal older than you and we have sufficient life experience to know that sexual capability is very important in a relationship. However, we were a little surprised that you had obviously discussed the matter with Fitz. Though if you can't even say the word, sex, to us, you'll need to become more comfortable saying it; because whatever this insanity is, if this gets to that stage, there will some blunt and frank discussions held," Coulson explained.

"If you want to say frickle frackle, I won't mind," inserted Garrett which earned him painful elbows from both Blake and Coulson. "I find it rather cute."

"And you?" Simmons asked Blake.

"I overthink everything," he admitted the understatement of the century without a trace of irony. "It would be nice….if it happens, it was…. Organic…. Spontaneous… but Phil's right. What's your experience? What's your expectations? How are we supposed to make this entire experience less traumatic for you if we don't hash it out? It needs to be discussed thoroughly so there are no surprises."

Simmons opened her mouth and then closed it.

"I think expectations for tonight are dinner and stargazing," Coulson inserted. "Let's go eat."

"Then we have to lock up everything securely so we don't get bears," Garrett loudly announced.

"Bears?" Fitz asked. "As in Lion, Tiger and Bears?"

"Bears," repeated Coulson.

* * *

Jemma Simmons sat on a log and ate her sandwich. Skye sat next to her and leaned towards her.

"How's it going?" Skye asked.

"I offered to spread my legs," Simmons stated, as she in THAT type of mood and she wished to shock Skye. She didn't like the way she was acting. Simmons normally liked following the rules and doing what's expected of her. It made her feel nice, but now she felt like a balky broodmare being led to stud and she was determined to kick and lash out anyone who thought they could ride her or guide her. Fitz knew she was in a foul mood as he was deliberately avoiding her.

"Let me guess, Garrett said, 'Hell, yes', Blake wants a graphic analysis of your responses to certain physical stimuli and Coulson wanted to wait until we find a five star hotel for a bed with a high thread count," Skye chortled. "Or are you doing more than one at a time?"

That was the final straw. Her sex life (or more truthfully the lack of it) was her business and hers alone, and while she had gotten herself into his particular position (BAD USE OF TERMS, Jemma, she warned herself) because of her noticeable reaction to Garrett's innocent use of a rather loaded phrase, she had enough.

"I've decided I'm watching and taking notes while Garrett and Coulson dominate Blake," she snapped, as she grabbed her simply delicious prosciutto di parma, Vermont goat cheese, and arugula smeared with just the perfect amount of fig spread sandwich and stormed off to a new location. She wasn't watching where she was going, so she bounced off the movable physical barrier known as John Garrett, who grabbed her and her sandwich before she went arse over tit.

"You look upset. Why don't you sit down here with me, so you can have your sandwich in peace?" He offered. "I make Agent Skye of no known last name nervous."

She nodded and sat down on the log. He sat down next to her but first he placed his jacket around her shoulders. It was ridiculously large on her but he nodded.

"Blake and Coulson didn't hear you," he quietly informed her. "Thank God, because that comment about Blake would have pushed Felix over the proverbial edge. Even the thought of being restrained makes him panic and the thought that it's one of your sexual fantasies for him would just cause him to have a nuclear meltdown."

"Oh God," she whimpered. "Don't you have something funny to say somewhere else? Some quip that needs to be voiced?"

"No," he stated. "Because I need to talk to you on behalf of the Trio of Old Men that Jemma Simmons Obviously Doesn't Want to do the Frickle Frackle with. I understand that you don't want to, bluntly, fuck any of us, old, damaged men. Your aversion is coming across loud and clear, but we're trying really trying to be polite and respectful. You owe us the same courtesy."

John Garrett had startling deep blue eyes, she realized even while she struggled to protest.

"I know this isn't easy for you, but Christ, Simmons, it's not easy for us. You think we wake up every morning and the first thing we think is, 'Oh, yay, twenty six year old girl friend. Let's knock her up and have plenty of babies?' No. Blake wakes and for that brief moment, he fears that he's stuck under tons of debris. Coulson is terrified that he's being wheeled into brain surgery. No matter where they are, the brief moment when they wake is full of panic and desperation and an overwhelming need to escape."

"And you?" she asked.

"I have a brief moment when I am completely pain-free and I remember what is used to be like for me. Then the pain flares anew. So, for now just stop it; by that I mean, the thoughts that Blake's a basket case, that Coulson sleeps in a coffin, that Garrett's a gregarious goon. That's not who we are, Simmons. What we are, are three men, trying very hard to act like gentlemen in a situation that all three of us would prefer if we weren't involved in."

Garrett leaned closer to Simmons.

"I don't think you're intentionally cruel, else I would have left you for Sitwell and Ward. I just think you've heard a lot about us, so you're justifiably concerned, and most of it, ain't true. And I understand that you're disappointed because we're not Prince Charming on a white horse. We're a bunch of old men, who've been torn asunder, who have pretty much French-Kissed Death, and who, because of our advanced age, are now facing the very real possibility of having children with you that we will never see grown up. Instead of a white horse, I ride a Harley, Phil's got his 'vette and Blake's got his Jeep."

She nodded as her anger had faded, to be replaced by the understanding that yes, Garret was correct. Then John Garrett smiled.

"So stop freaking out," Garrett ordered. "The three of us, we're not an easy crew to deal with, but we are trying to be on our best behavior. We're certainly not going to take you carnally in the middle of the cafeteria."

"I will try to stop freaking out," Simmons said.

"Good, as your meltdowns, justified as they are, have ripple effects of deeply disturbing the three of us. Now, changing the subject - like your sandwich? Phil made it. He makes a good sandwich though sometimes he gets a little exotic in his toppings. Felix on the other hand, makes a really good stir fry," he informed her.

"And what is John Garrett good at?" she asked.

"PB&J sandwiches," he admitted. At her frown, he added, "Calling takeout? Lifting heaving objects? I know! Flying planes!"

"Protecting your friends," she informed him.

He rolled his eyes and then stood. "Ask Felix about his guitar collections, ask him to play for you. Phil fanboys over Captain America. He's partial to the classics, classic cars, classical music. He's got a 'vette named Lola."

"Lola?" Simmons asked, with a smile. "Well, what about you?"

"We seem perfectly capable of having a conversation. Time for me to help set up the telescope. Poor Felix, I should hand feed him a smore or something, he's worried about grease on his lenses. He worries so much about everything, Simmons, don't give him more."

Garrett nodded and then left the area, leaving Jemma alone with her truly delicious sandwich.

* * *

"Should we be nervous that Garrett and Simmons are having a conversation?" Phil asked Felix while they munched on their sandwiches.

"She's not crying, so that's a good sign," Felix asked.

"Here he comes," Coulson commented.

"She's calmer," Garrett assured them when he finally joined them. "I think sometimes this insanity just completely overwhelms her."

"Her?" Felix quipped.

"We're older. We're men. We're completely out of touch with our emotions, so we're screwed," Garrett confirmed.

"Poor Simmons," Coulson murmured.

"Got another sandwich? I'm hungry," Garrett asked.

* * *

Felix adjusted the telescope and finally, he announced that it was ready.

"Who wants the first look?" he asked, having already accepted that it would just be Phil and John. Stargazing was a stupidest idea ever for a 'group date'.

Jemma Simmons stepped up the scope and smiled. "Me?"


	10. Logistics, Scheduling and Procurement

Later that evening...morning.

"See… everyone's so much calmer now," Garrett informed Jemma Simmons as the others packed up the campsite. The two of them were supposedly completing a pre-flight checkout but instead they were chatting as Garrett did everything. "Blake's not actively looking to defenestrate, Coulson's isn't anticipating that Buffy Summers will drive a wooden stake in his heart and I'm no longer convinced that you'll throw a walker in front of me so I'll trip and break a hip."

"I wasn't that _bad_ ," Jemma Simmons retorted.

John Garrett smirked at her, and she looked at her feet. "I didn't mean to be."

"We all have bad first introductions that we'd like to take back," he admitted. "Except for Ward and Sitwell. Always remember that bad impression."

"Am I not supposed to know that you three set that up with their old girlfriends?" Jemma asked. "It was rather obvious."

Well, now it was. At the time, not so much.

"Phil and I did it as we made a firm vow to be the SHIELD and defend the innocent from evil doers," Garrett assured her. "Blake wasn't involved as he's had problems with Frick and Frack, so he avoids them at all cost. Now I'm sure you remember how some of us had to fill out a rather detailed questionnaire for you to review? Time for you to fill a small one out for us."

He pulled out what seemed to be a very large pamphlet from his jacket pocket and bowed as he presented it to her.

"We'd like it by Monday, please." He smiled. Widely.

"It's forty two pages," she protested.

"Some are multiple questions, while others are essays, which we would like single spaced, please. It's only fair, and I've already talked to Fitz and he won't be filling it out for you. It's very difficult for us to take you out on dates if we don't know what you like to do you in spare time besides dissect things."

"Forty…." She began.

"Forty two pages," he stated.

"I'm being tagged-team right now, aren't I?" Simmons asked. "Coulson…."

"Phil," John Garrett retorted. "Let's not cause our Social Coordinator's head to spin. Poor girl is having enough issues as she melted Felix's coffee pot in her first hour of working for him."

"Phil leads the serious conversation, you are sent into charm and smooze…. And Felix…." Simmons asked. "Is he analyzing my responses and plotting a scatter graph?"

"Felix likes his coffee from a little shop called Café Grumpy," John informed her. "Don't smirk, it's got good coffee so I'd suggest picking some up for him on Monday as a thank you for dragging his eight inch…. Telescope… out into the wilds of Pennsylvania and spending the last four hours talking about the Greater and Lesser Magellanic Clouds. Felix likes Santa Teresa black, in the gallon jug size, and they have dog biscuits for Winston that they make just for him. Stop by and tell them you want the Blake Special and they'll hook you up. I'm partial to the Heartbreaker Expresso. Phil's a bit of a snob, Toarco Toraja is his favorite. And since we had to fill out a questionnaire, I think it's only fair that you have to fill it out. How else will we know where to take you on Group Date night?"

"Group Date Night?" Simmons repeated with a tremor in her voice.

"We ain't going into your lioness's den without backup, Simmons," John Garrett informed her. "On Single Date Night..."

"Single Date Night?" Simmons squeaked.

"Stop it with the squeaking," John requested. 'Yes, Single Date Night. There will be Group Date Nights as that way you get to deal with the three of us in a controlled setting. Single Date Nights are one and one dates where you get to know one of the eligible bachelors better – those will take place as soon as we old men loose our justifiable fear of Dr. Simmons. That's scheduled for month three."

"Me?" Simmons protested.

"YOU," retorted Garrett.

"I've never had anyone afraid of me before," she admitted. "I rather like it."

"I've created a monster!"

"So questionnaires, Single Date Night, Group Date Night. Time lines. You've put a great deal of thought into this," Simmons murmured. "Did Blake… Felix…. Put me into MS-Project?"

"That's not nice, Dr. Simmons," Garrett chastised. "Agent Blake had a building land on him. He broke both legs and his pelvis. He was trapped for close to forty-eight hours under debris and he was awake for all of it, with each shift of the building's weight, he thought that would cause the building to completely collapse on him and crush him. If he needs MS-Project to deal with this godforsaken insanity, cut him some slack."

Really, stated that way, Jemma felt very guilty indeed. 

"You're very protective of Felix," she remarked.

"He saved my life, I owe him, though he gets tired of me nannying him."

"Does he know you're suspended as you punched Sitwell and Ward?" Simmons asked.

"No, he'll be really pissed when he finds out," Garrett admitted. "Next question?"

"What conversations does Felix lead?" Jemma Simmons asked.

"Logistics," Garrett admitted in a very dry tone, which left Jemma Simmons confused if he was teasing.

"Logistics as in **_Procurement_** and **_Scheduling_**?" She repeated.

"Group Date Nights take a great deal of effort, as the three of us are very busy men, with full social calendars and we had to squeeze you and your merry sidekicks in."

"Basketball season is over, so… **_baseball_**?"

"What? You don't think women and men aren't lining up to date us?" Garrett protested.

She rolled her eyes at him and he barked a laugh.

"Someone has to make reservations, plan a nighttime of unforgettable fun and festivity," he stated. "Plus have sufficient bail money. Seriously, we're taking you out, we plan, we pay, as that's the way we were raised. We have access to your calendar, so Felix has sent invites for the next two weeks."

"Two weeks?" Simmons murmured.

"I think it's impersonal, but after experiencing your obvious lack of enthusiasm for your Harem of a Certain Age and Receding Hairlines first hand, we decided it would be less ego-bruising if we sent e-vites. Sunday night is Coulson's time to plan, so it's Sushi night. Just the four of us, as it's a very small spot. We'll have the Itamae do omakase. Bring your appetite as their sushi melts in your mouth. Then there's a Japanese Film Festival afterwards. There are subtitles."

"Sushi?" Simmons repeated as she wasn't really into sushi. "Japanese Film festival?"

"Yes and Yes. Group Date Night is scheduled for three times a week, it's not like we're dating every night," he explained. "Felix should be the one discussing the schedule with you, but since I'm here, I'll let you know. We're planning on ramping up the number of dates per week as we get closer to the deadline. You've got six months before you make your decision on who the lucky man will be. I'll pick you up on Sunday afternoon at four. Have you ever ridden a HOG?"

"HOG?"

"Fatboy," he continued before he paused "Ah, that look on your face, I'm talking about my motorcycle, not me. And I'm not a fat boy, I've got big bones. That's what my mum always told me. I'd appreciate if you'd get your mind out of the gutter, please. Also wear boots as I don't want you to burn yourself on the exhaust pipe."

Jemma Simmons nodded her head, realizing that she was adrift on the seas of fate, and it was just best to hang on.

"Time to load up," Garrett announced.

* * *

Fitz didn't say anything when they returned back to her flat, so Simmons sighed. "Go ahead, say it."

"No, no, no," he protested. "But I'm glad your attitude improved as you were a right stroppy cow in the beginning. I felt bad for your … boys…."

"Was not," Jemma protested.

"Was too! Moo. Moo. Moo. So….I noticed a distinct lack of snogging," Fitz offered.

"FITZ!"

"No snogging. None at all," Fitz mournfully announced. "Good thing they're being forced to date you, because when I date, I anticipated snogging on the first date. And not a dry, auntie kiss, but proper snogging with a great deal of tongue."

"I'm not that type of girl, I don't snog on the first date," Simmons primly stated.

"Especially as you'd have to queue them up in order to snog them. Would it be order of height or age?" Fitz asked before Simmons thwacked him HARD. "What's the next date?"

"Sushi and a Japanese Film Festival," she offered.

"Bluck," Fitz offered as he had an issue with textures. "Raw fish?"

"You're not invited," Jemma informed him. "Nor is Skye."

"Which is good as she's scared of your guys," Fitz insisted. "Coulson arches an eyebrow and she faints. Let's not even talk about how she's terrified of Blake who seems merely to want a decent cup of coffee."

"You mean she's afraid of… my Harem?"

"Harem? I don't think they'll let you keep all three of them," Fitz reminded her. "You get to try them all out and return two of them to the dating pool."

THWACK!

"Jemma, your harem members, they do know that you really haven't dated?" Fitz asked. "I mean, they're men, Jemma, not boys. There may be certain expectations on their end."

"I'm not a virgin, Fitz. I've had sex," protested Jemma. "More than once."

"And he broke your heart by sleeping with half the bloody Academy, male and female."

"I know where all the parts go, Fitz," Simmons snapped. "I won't need a bloody diagram."

She stormed off to her bedroom, as well, she didn't need to be reminded about THAT. Plus she had a fifty seven page questionnaire that needed answering.


	11. Questionaire and a Question

Jemma Simmons' Harem of a Certain Security Level and Income decided to pool intel in Felix Blake's apartment.

"Good job keeping Simmons talking so we could gather intel," Coulson congratulated Garrett. "Blake?"

"Fitz is worried about Simmons," Blake answered. "Wanted to make sure that I warned everyone that we are to be on our best behavior or else he'll kill us. Death by 'The Seven Dwarves', sounds deliciously Disneyfied Death."

"I like Fitz," Garrett laughed.

"What's your analysis, Felix?" Coulson asked.

"Very concerned. Impression I got... concerned because of a reason…. Issue… incident in her past," Felix admitted. "Deliberate in his threats on how we had to behave. Had to treat her well. Now that she's passed the 'OMIGOD they're so goddamn fucking old and crazy' stage, she's still… jittery. Like it's the first time…."

Phil curled his lip and appeared terrified, "Oh good God, **_no_**. This is where I get off this crazy train."

"No, not **_that_**. Kicking the tires would not brought into the conversation. Or that simply classy comment about her strange fetish to watch you and John dominate me while I was catatonic in true terror. Most virgins don't talk like that unless they've been busy highlighting **_50 Shades_** in hot pink highlighter."

"You've got to like a woman who's willing to explore," Garrett commented. "Though I did warn her that comment was in very bad taste. I told her that you don't swing that way."

He sat down next to Blake and gave him a simpering look. "Oh, honey, you're more into…"

"I'm in Gagging Garrett about now," snapped Felix. "Anyway, she's acting like's it's the first time in a long time that she's been out."

"Kid gloves then," Garrett announced. "Getting a beer. Anyone wants some?"

Two head nods.

"I'll know more after she finishes the questionnaire. I'll run the data analysis on it and let you review my findings," Felix explained.

"Forty two pages, what the hell did you ask her?" Phil questioned.

"I grabbed most of them off eHarmony," Blake admitted. "Then I sprinkled in a few questions to keep it off balance so she couldn't detect a pattern. If she was a flower, which one would she be? Does she like dogs? What's the difference between an egg and a rock? If you were on an island and there was a box, what would be in the box? Those will take her several hours to answer as she's quite verbose. Hey, John? Grab some chips while you're there, ok?"

Blake leaned towards Phil and whispered, "I don't think I'm up for this assignment. I need to recuse myself."

"You're not leaving me with John on this," protested Phil.

"My condition… my illness… there are thoughts that my mind might focus on," explained Felix. "Not nice thoughts involving Simmons. I couldn't deal well if those thoughts were in my mind. It's a possibility now as she did make that rather rude comment."

"Oh," Phil exhaled.

"Yes. I need to be immediately relieved of this assignment. However, I'd really prefer that the reason for my withdrawal is not made public."

"Felix, there are many different ways your condition can present itself. You check things compulsively, you worry about unintentionally screwing up and causing someone to get hurt, and you need order and symmetry. You're not a hoarder, you don't wash your hands until you bleed, and I can assure you that I highly doubt you've ever had a moral thought in your head. Plus, Sitwell and Ward are still among the living so you have not had any homicidal thoughts."

Felix relaxed slightly.

"Have you ever had a sexually violent thought about anyone, Felix? Answer me truthfully, because I will get you removed from this if you tell me yes, but I want the truth," Phil quietly requested.

"Never," Blake admitted. "But since New York, I don't think about it, at all."

"Liar," Phil retorted. "You're not dead, Felix. I know you've done the Frickle Frackle since New York."

"Two people I trust that can handle me if I freak out," Felix admitted. "Who the hell calls it Frickle Frackle. Say it what it is, **_fucking_**. Rub and tug, even, but frickle freckle?"

"Don't use that naughty word in front of Dr. Simmons," John chastised. "Couldn't find your chips, so be a good host and find them, wontcha?"

Garrett settled while Blake cursed a blue streak, muttering that Garret was too lazy to actually look for anything.

"Felix is thinking deep thinky thoughts, isn't he?" Garrett quietly asked.

Phil wearily nodded his head once.

"Mainly worried that he might start having sexually violent fantasies about Simmons."

"Not Felix," protested Garrett.

"It's a possibility with my diagnosis," Felix admitted as he handed Garrett a bag of chips.

"If you did start thinking… these thoughts…would you act on them?" Garrett asked.

"NO," Felix protested.

"Starting acting like Marcus Daniel?" Coulson questioned. "Stalking or otherwise putting her in danger? You haven't this urge to start spouting off ridiculous poetic nonsense of her being the light of your kife, the center of your universe?""

"No," Felix intently stated. "No, never. And seriously, Phil, I'm the most unpoetic soul I know."

"If for any reason, I thought you were a danger to Simmons, I'd put a stop to it. Yet, I'm not sure if this is a legitimate fear or just you worrying about hurting someone… which is another OCD symptom that you have in spades. When's your next appointment with your counselor?"

"Monday night," Felix admitted.

"I'll talk to him?" Phil offered. "Get the lay of the land, and if he believes you to be a danger to Simmons, then I'll get you removed."

"Please," Felix requested. "I'll stay away from Sushi night."

"No," Phil insisted. "If you misbehave, I'll taze you."

* * *

**_If you were a flower, which one would you be? Why?_ **

**_How far east can you go before you're heading west?_ **

**_If the answer is blowing in the wind, then is the question swimming in the waves?_ **

**_If you jaywalk in a J shape, then are you automatically considered a criminal mastermind?_ **

**_Phil is to _ as John is to _ and Felix is to __ **

**_If a jogger runs at the speed of sound, can he still hear his iPod?_ **

**_If man evolved from monkeys, how come we still have monkeys?_ **

**_How can something be "new" and "improved"? if it's new, what was it improving on?_ **

**_What type of animal is Snuffleupagus?_ **

**_If you had a three story house and were in the second floor, isn't it possible that you can be upstairs and downstairs at the same time?_ **

**_You're a new addition to the crayon box, what color would you be and why?_ **

Jemma Simmons took a quick gander at the questionnaire and decided it was time for bed.

* * *

Sunday 4:00 PM.

There was a knock on her door, and Simmons peered hopefully at Skye and Fitz who had decided to have dinner in the Fitzsimmons' apartment. Perhaps they'd decide to leave.

No such luck.

"I wonder who that could be," Fitz asked.

"I don't know, why doesn't Simmons open the door and find out," helpfully suggested Skye.

"I hate you both," Simmons firmly stated.

"Be home by eleven, but maybe I should tell your gentleman friend that," Fitz insisted, in his best paternal tones. "Invite your gentleman friend in."

Simmons scowled as both Skye and Fitz giggled. Thankfully they stopped when she opened the door to reveal John Garrett in black jeans, obligatory turtle neck, black leather jacket, and he had two motorcycle helmets.

"Hello," Garrett announced. "Wearing leather boots, that's good. I figured we'd can practice in the parking garage for a bit before we get out on the open road."

"Practicing what?" Skye asked.

"Riding double," Garrett gleefully exclaimed. "On my Harley. Shall we go?"

"Is it safe?" Leo Fitz protested.

"You want safe, catch a ride with Phil or Felix," he retorted. "In this Great Trinity, I'm Maheshwara."

John Garrett gave her explicit instructions on how to ride as a passenger, a great deal of practice in the parking lot …. All of which she promptly forgot when he left the parking lot with her in tow. She just grabbed his waist and hung on for dear life.

Bastard was laughing, she knew it.

* * *

She clung to Garrett like her life depended on it (As really it did) but as her fear faded, she realized that he was actually cruising at a sedate speed with plenty of stopping distance and a slow acceleration. They were soon joined by another motorcyclist who had a passenger also. They acknowledged Garrett and she would have waved…. Or done something, but she was still holding onto Garrett.

The other passenger was relaxed and he was most assuredly NOT clutching his driver.

They drove side by side for a bit until they both turned left and pulled into a small side street. There was a small parking lot and they pulled into it, where Garrett turned off his bike. He stood and she stayed glued to the bike.

"You can get off now," Garrett offered as he removed his helmet.

The other motorcyclists were revealed to be Felix Blake with Phil Coulson in the bitch seat. Phil easily got off the bike as did Felix. They looked at each other, looked at Jemma and then wordlessly extended their arms to help her get off the bike.

And both being perfect gentlemen, they didn't say a single word when after she got off the bike, her knees gave out and she nearly fell.

* * *

"We'll need to take our boots off," Phil explained to Jemma. "They have tatami floors."

"Oh," she said, because she suddenly remembered that she was wearing a rather funky pair of socks.

"This is a traditional Japanese sushi restaurant. I found it one day and I keep coming back as the fish is always fresh," Phil explained. "Felix and I will help you with some of the traditions. Just follow us, and don't jump when they yell, ' _irasshaimase'_ when we come in."

"There's yelling and raw fish," Simmons repeated. "Sounds delightful."

"Sorry, Phil wasn't in the mood for Pizza Hut," Felix Blake growled.

"Come on, Jemma, this is a chance to experience something that you normally don't do. Enjoy it," protested Garrett.

She was standing in her hot pink sock clad feet when the staff member yelled, " _irasshaimase_!" Fortunately, she didn't jump.

"Smile, nod your head," Felix hissed while Phil spoke in Japanese to one of the staff. "They will hand you a wet towel, wipe your hands with it. Don't use it as a napkin. Phil's ordering the _omakase_ from the _itamae_ which means that he's trusting the chef to prepare the best of what he has."

"Him?" Simmons asked.

"Women's hands are deemed too warm to serve sushi," Felix explained. "We order the sushi from the itamae, while everything else is from the waitress."

"This is all very confusing," Simmons admitted.

"Don't worry, we'll take care of you," promised Garrett, which is how she found herself snugly sitting between Felix and Phil. John was sitting on the other side of Felix and she was staring at the raw fish, wondering what each was. Meanwhile, the boys chatted in Japanese with the _itamae_ , who seemed familiar with her delinquents as he pulled out a bottle of sake for them. Fortunately,Felix kept up a running translation for her. He seemed… in an odd mood, as though he was forcing himself to be sociable.

"No Winston?" She asked as really, she was a little nervous as Blake still seemed rather prickly.

"I don't bring him everywhere," Blake tersely explained.

"We usually don't bring him when we're having dinner," Garrett inserted. "One time Phil turned his head and Winston ate his Kobe steak."

She couldn't help it, she giggled and Blake glared at her. He had really intense sky blue eyes, she noticed so she looked towards Phil, who was nodding his head in agreement.

"He's really a remarkable dog," protested Blake.

"Felix, your dog ate a forty dollar piece of steak," protested Phil. "Took it off my plate."

"Actually, I gave it to him," admitted Blake. "He was hungry, you were flirting."

Jemma giggled at the horrified look on Phil's face.

* * *

Dinner was surprisingly relaxing, as the men…. Boys… Harem members… seemed to settle down. She learned proper etiquette, how to slurp her soup, how to hold her chopsticks. She tried different types of fish and most importantly, she watched the boys interact.

John was the instigator, Felix was the introvert and Phil was the buffering influence that kept the team working together. Phil had laugh lines around his eyes and a wicked smile, Felix had surprisingly graceful hands and Garrett's laugh was infectious.

Plus Blake and Coulson smelled utterly delicious. Two complimentary colognes, wedged knee to knee with two men.

Really, a surprisingly enjoyable meal and she was disappointed when dinner was over. The men escorted her out, but Blake stayed behind and helped her put her boots back on. Since John and Phil had already 'booted up' they were outside, waiting for them.

"So, I didn't put this on the questionnaire, but I'd like an answer. Why do you have this need to watch Phil and John dominate me?"

Her mouth dropped open. Felix's smile was brittle and his eyes were an icy blue.

"Do you really dislike me that much that you want to watch me have a panic attack? Seriously, what the fuck have I ever done to you?"


	12. Conversations

"So, I didn't put this on the questionnaire, but I'd like an answer. Why do you have this need to watch Phil and John dominate me?"

Her mouth dropped open. Felix's smile was brittle and his eyes were an icy blue.

"Do you really dislike me that much that you want to watch me have a panic attack? Seriously, what the fuck have I ever done to you?"

Jemma Simmons said nothing, but she stepped away from a rather annoyed Felix Blake. Her retreat surprised him, and _**he**_ stepped back.

"Why are you doing that? Do you think I'll hit you? I'm trying to figure out what I ever did to you was so bad that you'd enjoy witnessing me having a meltdown? It must have been pretty bad, whatever I did," Blake admitted. "What did I do? I don't think I've ever talked to you before this? I mean, there was that one project, but I rechecked my correspondence, and notes, and I never talked to you directly. So, it must have been something. I can't remember anything so I don't know what I did. I truly don't know what I did."

"You didn't do anything to me, I was being… mean," Jemma Simmons slowly admitted.

"Oh," Felix Blake rumbled. To Jemma's horror, he seemed to relax and his face softened into the slightest smile, or something less frightening than his usual grim face. "It wasn't something I had done then."

He hadn't been angry at her, he had been angry at himself, because he thought he had done something to deserve her comment.

"I'm sorry," Simmons insisted. "It was quite cruel of me."

"No need to apologize, I worried, needlessly it seems, that I had done something to you. Unintentionally. I was quite concerned." Then in a very soft tone, with a heaping amount of self-mockery, "I worry a lot about many things. You've probably noticed that."

"Please accept my apology," she requested. "I was being quite cross and spiteful. You've been nothing but quite polite to me. A perfect gentleman."

"You don't need to apologize. I have a very thick skin as I deal with significantly worse daily," Blake said. Then he leaned towards her, "Just don't make any jokes about Coulson. He tries to laugh when they make comments about him being one of the Living unDead, but it bothers him, ok? So please don't. He doesn't have the thick skin that I do. Now, let's see if we can get you on the back of Garrett's Harley."

Jemma Simmons realized anew how utterly damaged Felix Blake was, and she looked at her Harem with new eyes. John Garrett, wincing, when he thought no one was looking, his loud joviality aimed at keeping Blake calm and amused, or disgusted and calm, or just calm. Phil Coulson and his jokes about his Tahiti vacation and how he rubbed his chest and grimaced when the old wound twinged. How he kept Garrett just on the side of being cheeky and Blake a shade less abrasive.

And how they acted towards her. Felix never touched her skin, only her shirt (dancing) or if he was wearing gloves (to get off Garrett's hog). Garrett and Phil were more comfortable touching her, though Phil was a bit more restrained than Garrett's effusiveness.

Really, it was no surprise that Jemma Simmons was unable to enjoy the Japanese Film Fest because she was overwhelmed by the very real possibility of further hurting the three men. Garrett noticed her reticence and commented. Blake blamed it on the selection. "Really, _**The Story of the Last Chrysanthemum**_ is a classic, but the heroine dies from TB. Why don't you take us to _**La bohème**_ , next?" while Phil futively protested it was a classic film.

"Actually, Tuesday is Garrett, which is…" Phil prompted.

"Bowling." Garrett announced.

"Bowling," mouthed Blake and Coulson. "Bowling?"

"I haven't bowled before. It sounds interesting," Simmons offered.

"Phil will show you have to bowl. And for dinner…. Italian. I know a really good place. It's _**real**_ Italian."

"What's the information so I can update the invite?" Blake asked as he took out his smart phone.

"Make sure you invite Fitz and your new assistant. She was pretty annoyed that we took Simmons out tonight without her tagging along, and I had to listen to her for hours," Garrett explained. "She didn't come out and say it, but I think she was worried that we'd get Simmons drunk and take advantage of her. So Simmons, do you think you could handle a foursome?

Simmons hadn't even had a chance to formulate an answer when both Blake and Coulson elbowed Garrett hard.

"Can you behave?" Blake asked.

"Do I need to tazer you?" Phil added.

"So we need to invite Agent Skye, as she was quite irked," Garrett continued.

"She didn't say anything to me," Blake protested. "Phil, what is it with that look? Just come out and say it."

"She's _**terrified**_ of you," Phil explained. "Maybe you could smile once in a while."

"Like this?" Blake smiled brightly, added a wink for added enhancement and Garrett shivered.

"Please _**don't**_." Garrett said with great sincerity. "For the love of God, man. Don't ever do that again. I'll have nightmares!"

"You didn't like my Sitwell Smile?" a confused Blake asked. "Grinning and winking like a loon?"

"I felt this almost uncontrollable urge to run down the street, screaming like a little girl," Phil admitted.

"Considering he went mano y dios with Loki, that's saying so very, very much," inserted Garrett.

"Fuck you," Blake growled. Then he repeated it a few more times while Garrett laughed.

"I think I'm quite capable of handling the three of you at the same time," Jemma finally announced.

Silence fell as all three men turned to face her. Coulson's mouth was open as he was stunned, Garrett was openly grinning and Blake was blushing…. Blushing…..

"Do we take a number and wait to be called into your boudoir?" Garrett asked. This time, Coulson and Blake didn't even bother to pull their blows as Garrett exhaled loudly when their elbows hit him.

"At the very same time," she repeated. "I'm quite skilled at multi-tasking. I hope you can keep up with me, gentleman."

Coulson and Blake appeared close to swooning, and Garrett looked disappointed.

"I'll have to pass, as I think Mutt and Jeff just broke ribs," Garrett quipped while Phil and Felix said nothing.

Jemma Simmons returned back to her apartment and she wasn't surprised that Fitz and Skye were waiting for her.

"Details?" Skye asked.

"Forget that, snogging. Was there snogging? Who's the better kisser? Coulson," Fitz decided. "He's a gourmet. Reminds me of Alex, I had such a jolly time with him as he was experienced in the better things in life and wanted me to share in the experience."

"Please, Garrett," Skye protested as she voted for the most exuberant of the various bachelors.

"No vote for Blake?" Jemma asked.

Their jaws dropped.

"Mr. Grouchy Bear?" Skye asked.

"He's not a grouchy bear, he's just very reserved." Jemma felt the instinctive need to protect Felix Blake.

"With a very intimidating pair of eyebrows," quipped Fitz which Jemma chose to ignore.

"Can we have lunch tomorrow, Skye? We can talk about tonight then. I'm just tired," Jemma requested.

"Sure," she agreed and they reserved a time and place.

After Skye left, Fitz sat down next to her. "You, ok?"

She shook her head.

"I'm over my head with them. They're just so much older than I am, and they….. they're damaged, Fitz. All three of them are damaged in different ways, and … I don't know… why I was chosen. I mean, I had made a very not nice comment to Skye and Blake overheard it and instead of thinking oh, Jemma Elizabeth Simmons is stroppy cow, he thought he had done something…. And he had worked himself into an absolute state…. And…. Phil and John…. I…. I…. They're damaged…. And I'm scared that I'll break them."

Fitz grabbed her hands and squeezed them.

"You are a healer of souls, Simmons. You're peace and understanding, and joy and innocence all wrapped up in you. Do you think Skye, Agent of No Known Last Name, would be able to handle them?"

Simmons shook her head.

"I have absolute faith in you," Fitz assured her. "You saved me from myself, didn't you, love?"

"You give me far more credit than I deserve," Simmons protested.

"I disagree."


	13. Fire in the Hole

"Jemma Simmons will kill the man lucky enough to marry her," Phil Coulson dryly predicted.

"But, oh, what an absolutely lovely way to go," cooed John Garrett.

"No, we'll be dead long before any of us have to pick out a tux, so Phil, I'm asking if you out survive me, you are to take care of Winston, please. Then find him a nice home with normal people with lots of kids," retorted Felix Blake who had just finishing lovingly grooming a very vain Winston. "John, do you think you can possibly stop _INSTIGATING_?"

"Who me?" John Garrett asked. For this attempt at humor, he was rewarded by Blake throwing the dog brush at him.

"Do you think you can handle a FOURSOME?" Phil and Felix pointedly reminded John Garrett. Then Felix continued, "Or do we take a ticket and stand in line like we're at the deli counter?"

"I'll be the one with performance anxiety in the corner," offered Phil.

"A foursome would be worse as you know she'd be looking at…." began Garrett.

"Our scars," Felix quickly stated. "She actually finished the questionnaire. I'll pull the data together and let you know what makes Dr. Simmons tick."

"Any chance she has a strange fetish for old men?" Garrett asked.

"With bionic parts? I'm afraid not. Though she got a little silly towards the end, she didn't realize that I put a keylogger on her questionnaire."

"Do tell," Phil requested.

"One question was since T-Rex are descended from birds, where they able to hop? Her original answer was T-Rexes were unable to hop due to their short little forearms, because if they fell over when they hopped they'd never get back up. And T-Rexes are horribly misunderstood dinos because all they needed was slightly larger forearms, because they were cranky because they couldn't hug,"

"So that's Felix's problem. He has short forearms," Garrett offered.

In response Felix Blake gestured repeatedly with his more than adequately sized forearms, with one such gesture would have guaranteed him lengthy jail time in Saudi Arabia.

"Group hug!" Garrett chirped as the two men embraced a protesting and squirming Felix Blake. Garrett, adding salt to the wound, decided to rub Blake's hair so it was every which way.

"God, I hate you guys!"

Garrett spiked Blake's unruly hair still further and decided a serenade was required. "I drunk myself blind…. to the sound…. of old T. Rex…."

"HATEYOU!"

"You know you love us," Phil protested. "Without us…"

"I'd have no one who'd put up with me," softly admitted Felix.

"Same here," admitted Phil.

"Ditto," Garrett agreed. "God, we're pathetic."

The three men sat down and stared at the wall. Finally one offered, "Breakfast tomorrow. Same spot?"

* * *

The three agents (and dog) met at the coffee shop the next morning. Felix handed out two large packets and then sat down in order to debrief the troops.

"Here's the intel," he announced as he reached for his coffee.

"What's your analysis?" Phil asked.

"You're the best agent to handle this delicate situation," was his simple response. "Not John, and certainly not me. Our objective requires a sensitivity and compassion that we lack."

The three men leaned towards each other as Blake explained. "One known boyfriend during time at the Academy. I investigated him, he was actually thrown out of SHIELD due to undisclosed reasons. Personnel file had been sealed but I spoke with Anne Weaver. She remembers him being trouble…. Actually her comment was that he was a real dickhead and had lots of problems with him as he was too busy screwing around."

"Anne said that?" Garrett asked.

"It sounded better with her accent, but yes. She was curious why I wanted to know, I told her a little bit and that I was concerned as I was a great deal older than Simmons. I also convinced her that I was worried as Simmons seemed skittish about dating, far beyond the entire I'm old enough to be her granddad. Weaver's abstract is on the page thirty five, pretty much he was an ass, broke her heart and destroyed Simmon's self-confidence so she hasn't dated since. Been too busy sciencing."

"You expect that I'll read all this?" Garrett asked. "Phil, read it and synthesize it for me."

Phil smiled his innocuous smile and Garrett swallowed once. "No need to threaten me, I'll read it."

"What about her comments, I mean, the foursome comment startled me," Phil asked.

"Simple. It's Garrett, she's probably scared to show the faintest bit of weakness," explained Blake. "So she's trying to match Garrett's bad behavior so we don't know how inexperienced she really is."

John Garrett put down his coffee and glared. "What do you mean by that?"

"Bull in a china shop, John," Phil explained. "You do come across a bit strong, though it is part of your charm. Game plan is we'll review Blake's assessment and discuss it tomorrow before the bowling alley. Bowling… **_Bowling_** … Really, do people still bowl? Besides us, I mean?"

"Bowling," Garrett repeated. "It's fun. And Phil will show her how to bowl."

"By the way, what did she originally put down for Phil is to _ as John is to _ and Felix is to _?" asked Phil.

"Larry, Curly and Moe," deadpanned Felix.

"The THREE STOOGES?" Phil repeated while Garrett roared.

"Actually it took her thirty minutes to answer that question, and she finally put down what type of car we drive."

* * *

That Monday morning, Jemma Simmons had planned on buying Felix a nice apology coffee. She had, but she overslept and…, so she didn't. Tuesday morning, there was an issue on the train, so she couldn't get there and to work on time so she had no contact with her Harem until Tuesday night when she met them at the bowling alley. To her surprise, the boys weren't wearing suits and fatigues. No, Felix was wearing a flame emblazoned bowling shirt, while Garrett had a motorcycle emblazoned on his (Yes and he was wearing the turtle neck) while Phil's bowling shirt was black with red strips with the corvette logo on the back.

"Is there a problem, Simmons?" Coulson asked.

"I've never seen you in clothes," she admitted which caused Coulson to blink. Rapidly. "I'm mean …. Out of your suit…."

Oh good God, she had done it again. She possessed the knack on how to embarrass herself in ten words or less.

"We rented the alleys at the end of the lane," quickly inserted John. "Why don't we get you a ball you can wrap your hand around?"

Felix Blake stared at the heavens and intoned, "It just gets worse, and worse. He doesn't even try to behave."

"You see, bowling balls range in size. Blake and Garrett both have sixteen pound balls, while I have a fifteen. You may want to try a twelve," Phil explained. "We also decided that it might be best if we split into three teams. Blake and Fitz will be on the one team with Garrett and Skye on the other."

"God help us all," stated the rightfully pessimistic Felix Blake.

"What's the problem, Boss? Don't you want to bowl with me?" Skye asked. She smiled brightly and her brilliant smile didn't fade, not one single watt, even though Felix Blake didn't smile.

"No, I have a strong desire to survive tonight," admitted Blake. "You'd probably hit me with the bowling ball. Accidentally."

"No, she'd do it deliberately!" Garrett chortled.

* * *

Phil explained to her and the rest of the newbies on how to pick the proper ball, not too heavy, not too light. That done, he requested John Garrett demonstrate the proper stance and how to throw the ball. John aligned his non-dominant foot with the center and then he gracefully threw the ball.

"Hooked," Blake announced as the ball was traveling down the lane.

"To the left," Garrett admitted as his ball did just that leaving him with a pin. "Now, I'm a stroker while Blake is a crank…er. Being a stroker, I have a sliding feet movement that will stop just before the ball gets to the line. Doing it this way, I use the momentum of my body so I can release the ball during the final slide. Now, if you're cranky… "

"Not laughing," snapped Blake.

"Crankers reach the foul line before the ball is released, and their elbows are bent so their hand is below and behind the ball prior to release. This style uses a moderate amount of body strength when throwing the bowling ball. So Blake is sheer brute strength, while I'm not. Felix, if you could please…"

Felix Blake demonstrated a perfect strike, pumped his fist in victory and then tapped Garrett on the chest. "Wager, big boy?"

"Ok, hot shot. The usual," Garrett decided.

"Ignore them," Phil instructed Jemma. He walked her to the foul line, gently reminded her how to throw the ball and then gave her a very crooked smile. "You can do this. It's really easy."

She smiled at him and he nodded his head.

"Don't worry – the worst thing you can do is throw it in the gutter. We'll give you some warm up throws."

Phil took the ball from her hand and instructed her to watch him. Phil had a relaxed stance and an easy throw, and the bowling ball sailed down the alley.

"Nothing to it. Now you try," he repeated.

Jemma Simmons nodded her head. It was only a bowling ball and really, the twelve pound ball dealt with biomechanics and physics and friction and velocity. Even center of gravity and momentum. Easy peasy! Piece of cake! She practiced her stance and then closed her eyes as she threw the ball.

When she knocked down all the pins, wouldn't the boys be so surprised?

" ** _FIRE IN THE HOLE_**!" Garrett roared even while Skye shrieked. There was a sound of breaking glass and a loud thud. Well, several loud thuds as though a bowling ball was bouncing.

Behind her.

Jemma Simmons opened her eyes to realize that all the pins were still standing in front of her. The blasted things were mocking her so she looked to the right and to the left and all pins were still standing.

Oh no.

"SIMMONS!" Fitz sounded very upset. "WHAT the BLOODY HELL?"

She turned to face Fitz and realized that she had gotten a perfect strike after all. Not ten pins, no, not at all, but two level seven agents and a level eight were down.

A bloody, as in real blood, running down his face, bloody Garrett was on top of Blake and Coulson. Winston licked a still Blake's face even while Coulson groaned. Garrett gingerly rolled off the two men and apologized for taking immediate action, "I saw the ball coming toward you two and…."

Jemma Simmons realized that there were far, far, far worse things than throwing a gutter ball. For example, throwing a bowling ball at three senior agents was far worse.

"It's ok, I'm glad you saw it coming my way," Phil said. "I'm fine."

"Phil? Look at your left wrist," Garrett informed Phil. "Felix, come on, Felix. Say something."

"I think he hit the floor hard," Phil said. He looked at his deformed left wrist and sighed, "Shit, my wrist isn't supposed to look like that, is it?"

"No," Garrett helpfully offered.

"Least I can't feel it," Phil admitted, rather happily, as it did look broken. "Tactile anesthesia can be a good thing it seems."

Felix Blake muttered something and Garrett barked a laugh. "Can you say that a little louder?"

"She's not happy that she's gonna kill us. No, now she's actively trying to murder us," protested Blake. "She threw the goddamn bowling ball at us. She **_aimed_** it at us. **_Deliberately_**."

"I did not," a stunned Simmons protested even as she looked in horror at the carnage she had unleashed. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I swear I didn't do this deliberately."

"I think I broke my hip," Felix Blake whimpered. He was lying prone and he wasn't moving. "I think I broke my fucking hip again when Garrett tackled me. Oh sweet mother of God, not again."

"We'll call for an ambulance," the rather nervous bowling alley manager said. "Do you think we need two?"

"Phil and I can walk. Do you have a 4X4 as I'm bleeding?" Garrett asked. "Then I'll splint your wrist, Phil."

"Can I do anything?" Simmons pleaded as really this mess was completely her fault. "I can splint…"

"Oh, no way in hell are you touching my leg. You've done plenty," snapped Felix Blake. "Jemma Simmons, Warrior Princess, can go home now as I don't think we're going out for Italian."

"Maybe, Felix has a point. Why don't you three go home," Phil Coulson suggested. "I'll call you later. Promise."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean… I swear," Jemma Simmons pleaded. She placed her hands over her mouth and she shook her head in horrified disbelief.

"It was an accident, but let's find out what the damage is, and we'll talk. Promise," Phil Coulson assured her. "Can you get our bowling balls? Round them up and hold them for us?"

"Do you need a ride home from the hospital?" Simmons asked. "I can drive you home."

"Maybe, not such a good idea," Coulson admitted. "Felix is a little irked right now."

"What about Winston? You can't take him to the hospital, can you?" Simmons reminded Phil. "We can watch him for you."

She had to do something for them, especially as she had maimed them!

"No, no, no. Not getting my dog," an annoyed Felix protested. "Not getting near him, Xena!"

"We'll keep Winston, I think he can't leave Blake right now," Phil softly explained. His eyes were quite kind but he appeared on the verge of hysterical laughter. "Go home, I'll call. I promise."

"I really didn't deliberately throw it at you," Simmons insisted.

"We know that. Even Felix does, but he's worried about his leg. He had multiple surgeries on his pelvis and legs."


	14. Splint, Stitches and Surgery

"Can you move?" a very concerned John Garrett asked a cursing Felix. "It's probably a bad bruise as I hit you pretty hard."

Phil saw how the leg was rotated and he silently shook his head.

"No," Felix stated through clenched teeth. "It's out."

He was still lying prone on the floor and his eyes were closed.

"The ambulance should be here shortly," Phil promised.

"Not planning on going anywhere," Felix tersely quipped. "Unless you're planning on carrying me."

He exhaled and then inhaled slowly.

"Did Kali leave yet?" Felix asked. His voice was low and controlled and he was literally trembling from the pain.

"I'm still here," Simmons slowly admitted as Coulson and Garrett both turned to face her.

Felix turned his head to face her, then he opened his eyes and smiled. It was a wide, bright smile that was at odds with the fact that he was still on the floor. "I had a lovely evening, truly I did, and you can go now. You really, really can. You can take Mary Sue and Leo with you too, and while I had a truly memorable time, I think I'll pass on Thursday night."

"Mary Sue?" Jemma asked. When Skye gasped, Jemma realized who it was.

"I'm really disappointed about Thursday night. Truly I am … because Stavros' has a really good Flaming saganaki. You won't be able to set me on fire!" Blake struggled to laugh and then he closed his eyes.

Simmons looked at Fitz, who looked back at her.

"Now, can you please leave, before I start screaming?" Felix pleaded. "Please?"

* * *

"They'll be taken to the base to be checked out," Fitz informed Simmons as he pulled her away from the bowling ball bloodbath even as black clad EMS workers descended upon her victims. "We'll go there and wait for them."

"They don't want me there," Jemma protested. While they hadn't come out and said it, it seemed pretty obvious that she was NOT wanted.

"Jemma, they waited for you when you fainted," Fitz reminded her. "You should do the same."

There was an unholy shriek just then. Skye stopped dead in her tracks, so Simmons ran into her.

"Was that noise… Agent Blake?" a horrified Skye whispered.

Jemma nodded her head once.

"Oh my God," Skye stated.

Since the audience had left, Felix Blake felt free to curse. He cursed in Arabic, he said naughty things in Cantonese, he cast character aspersions in Russian on whomever had done a half assed job filling in the potholes in the road as the ambulance personnel hit every single one of them, but he didn't… didn't… didn't… say one bad word about Jemma Simmons.

By the time he rolled into the emergency department, the doctors were there, waiting for him with a big shot of pure sunshine and happiness and puppy dogs, lots and lots of puppy dogs. And rainbows and unicorns that shat rainbows out of their butts and…. All he needed to do was sign, sign, sign all sorts of consents because it was obvious he was heading toward the Operating Room. Once he signed forty seven forms and turned over all responsibility for himself over to Phil Coulson, they gave him the shot.

Then they gave him another shot of really good shit and he was so goddamn happy and feeling so damn relaxed that he could have kissed Jemma Simmons instead of being so damn anxious because she was beautiful and smart and nice and lovely… all the things that he wasn't….

A really good goddamn kiss where she would have realized that the old dog still had all his own teeth and had some bite left…

He had enough pride left to be damn grateful that she had gone home, where she was probably laughing at him. Plus, Felix Blake knew that both John and Phil were quasi interested in Simmons, and since they were both better men than him, it would be best if he just stepped… limped aside.

So no kisses for Felix Blake, anxious and abrasive asshole.

"The mouth on our boy," Garrett commented as he and Phil help move Blake from the gurney to a stretcher.

"Rather impressive, with a strong command of vocabulary and context," Phil remarked. Then he leaned over Felix's shoulder and laughed. "He's smiling."

"Really good shit," Felix mumbled. "Like when we had to do drugs in the nineties."

"Shhhh," teased Phil. "We're supposed to deny that we experimented with drugs as part of our training."

"Good idea," he slurred. "Gonna sleep now."

The orthopedic surgeon made his appearance, took a look at his patient and sighed.

"The minute I heard it was Felix, I called in the OR team. Was it his donorcycle?" the surgeon asked. "I told him to give up the bike, but he refused."

"No, it was far, far worse than his motorcycle," Phil calmly stated. "It was…. A pretty girl and a bowling ball."

Garrett and Coulson were deliberate in not staring at each other, but John's lip quivered. Phil Coulson thought serious thoughts but he knew that sooner or later, he'd start uncontrollably laughing. However for now, Felix needed someone to be an adult and handle everything.

"Garrett needs stitches, and you need an x-ray," the surgeon decided.

"What about Felix?" Garrett asked.

"X-rays, blood draw, ekg, then to the OR. We'll do it under general anesthesia," the surgeon explained.

"Lots of happy drugs, doc?" requested Garrett.

"By the time I'm done drugging him, you could drop Felix into a Celine Dion concert and he'd be singing along," promised the surgeon.

"Good man. Now, John, you get stitched up and I'll stay with Felix," Coulson offered. "You're dripping on the floor and I can move my fingers."

He waved his fingers at Garrett who shook his head.

"Notice you're not bending your wrist," Garrett offered.

"I am not leaving Felix alone," Phil promised.

"After you get fixed up, you go home and take Winston. I know how much you hate hospitals," John offered. "I'll stay until he wakes."

* * *

Twelve stitches (John) and one Wrist Splint w/ Fixed Thumb, Left, Large, for a grade two sprain, (Phil) later, they returned back to Felix's stretcher where the fallen agent was sleeping the deep sleep of the heavily drugged. Winston was sitting in a chair next to Felix's bedside and he was resting his head on his master's hand.

"He's so cute when he's drugged," Phil softly offered. "I think he's even smiling."

"We should take a picture and email it to Simmons," offered Garrett. "He doesn't look quite as threatening when he's drooling."

"He'd kill us," Coulson protested.

"Gimpy would Have to catch us first," was Garrett's proclamation before he took a picture. "Now, seriously, you can go. I'll stay with Sleeping Felix, you take Winston home with you. After your Tahiti experience, I know uncomfortable you are being in a hospital, especially when surgery's involved. Felix will understand, so go."

Garrett pushed (but gently) Phil towards the door and Winston regretfully trotted after Phil. He did turn and looked at his master, even while Phil put the dreaded leash on him.

"Are you walking me out to the parking lot?" Phil protested.

"Putting you into the car and slapping a tracking device on it. Plus they need to get Felix prepped for surgery and they might need to assistance. You and I might be recruited to undress him. Let's give him some privacy."

"You can be surprisingly sensitive at times," chastised Phil as they exited the Emergency Room.

"Fuck you, Phil," growled Garrett.

"That's my boy!"

Winston pulled on his leash and guided his chaperones toward a corner in the waiting room where Jemma Simmons, British Guardian Angel of Disastrous Dates along with her two Handmaidens of Terror, Mary Sue and Leopold, sat. The Giant Schnauzer, uncaring of his own safety, placed his head into her lap and sighed.

"Agent…. John…. Phil… Winston…." Simmons said, with a valiant attempt at being cheerful as she cataloged their collateral damage. "Where's Felix? Is he getting the car? It was just a bruise then?"

"They're prepping him for the Operating Room. They need to pop his hip back in under general anesthesia," Garrett gently explained.

"Oh my God," Simmons prayed. "I'm so sorry, it's my fault."

"There's nothing you can do here, so why don't you go home and get some sleep," Phil offered. "We'll let him know that you were here and that you asked about him. We need to take Winston home. Come on."

Winston regretfully left Jemma and followed the two men as they left.

"Oh my God," Jemma repeated. "I need to see Felix."

"Do you really think that's such a good idea? He's a bit cranky on his best days and… being prepped for surgery probably won't improve his mood," suggested Skye.

"You should see him," Fitz stated. Then he gave her a very suggestive look which translated into, " _Since you maimed him, you should snog him_."

In response, she gave him the " _SOD OFF, FITZ_ " look in exchange.

"I don't know if I can get into the Emergency Room," Jemma protested.

"You need to," Fitz informed her. "You put him there!"

* * *

It was rather easy to visit Felix Blake. Simmons put on her big girl pants, walked up to the registrar and stated her desire to see Felix. She was permitted to visit him in Ward #5 so she gathered her nerves and entered the cube.

Anticipating that he'd snap at her, curse, scream and possibly throw a hopefully empty urinal at her, instead she was surprised to find him deeply sleep while a doctor performed a pre-op check list.

"Dr. Foster," the scrub clad doctor introduced himself. "I'll be popping Felix's hip back in."

"Jemma Simmons, I'm the one that crippled him," she nervously explained.

"With a Bowling ball?"

She nodded.

"Bowling balls can be very dangerous," Dr. Foster informed her.

"Especially when I throw them," she admitted.

"We're about to take him to surgery in a few minutes, do you want some time alone? He's very heavily drugged as he was in a great deal of pain."

"Please," she requested.

"Absolutely," as he left the ward, closing the curtain behind him.

In all honesty, she had no idea what to do next, so she leaned on the railing to look at Felix. He seemed younger…. Less defensive….when he was asleep and she hesitantly stroked his hand.

"I'm so sorry, I'm such a klutz," she admitted. "I'm just so sorry."

Then she leaned over and kissed him on his cheek. She stood up and turned to exit when she realized that a very somber John Garrett was intently watching her. Jemma inwardly braced for his biting sarcasm or a quirky quip.

Instead Garrett announced, "I'm sitting in the waiting room until he's out of surgery. Phil isn't good with hospitals, and I couldn't leave Felix by himself."

"I'd like to sit with you," she offered. "If you wouldn't mind."

"I wouldn't," he assured her.


	15. Kinsey and Pancakes

Jemma Simmons sat in the waiting room next to a very somber John Garrett. She shivered, due to the cold, and he gave her his heavy leather jacket. She wrapped herself into it and curled into her seat.

"Always keep these damn places frigid, I guess it prevents disease and pestilence," Garrett dryly announced.

Simmons struggled to smile but failed.

"Nobody blames you," Garrett sincerely offered. He reached for her hands and squeezed them.

"He must be furious with me," Jemma admitted. "Rightfully so as I threw the bowling ball."

"No, Blake won't be angry with you. It's a rather select club of people who anger Felix Blake. Blake will only get mad at Phil or me on the rarest occasion, normally I'm the guilty party because I'm an insensitive asshole, but his anger is usually focused inward."

"Why?" Jemma asked.

"Not my story to tell," Garrett informed her. "You're smart, I'm sure you'll figure out our Felix."

She pondered it for a bit, replayed her various meetings with Felix Blake, how he acted, how John and Phil treated him. The way he intently watched Phil and John, how he forced himself to mimic their behavior.

"He wants to be normal," she realized.

"He's a firm believer in tough love," Garrett slowly admitted. "He has a complete lack of compassion with regards to himself as he feels that he has to push himself into being the man he once was. Felix refuses to accept what the new normal is. He pushes himself, fails, which increases the pressure on himself the next time, so it's a positive feedback loop."

She stared at him, and John Garrett barked a laugh. "Yes, you're having a serious conversation with John Garrett. Go tell your friends and family, nobody would believe you."

"They won't," Jemma exclaimed. "I'm having severe difficulties and I'm sitting next to you, wearing your jacket."

John Garrett smiled.

* * *

Few hours later.

An exhausted Jemma Simmons had closed her eyes for just a brief moment, and woke up several hours later leaning on John Garrett. He had his arm resting behind her and he was surprisingly comfortable and cozy as a body pillow.

"Sorry about that. Did I miss much?" She groggily asked as she straightened herself into a sitting position. "Is he out of surgery?"

"No, he's still in. He should be out soon," her body pillow informed her. "While you were sleeping, I was thinking. You have a rather delicate wrist. You shouldn't be throwing a twelve pound ball. Maybe next time, you can use a five pound ball."

"There will be no next time for bowling, I think last night proved that Jemma Simmons' bowling is too dangerous for the Free World," inserted Phil Coulson who had arrived during this conversation. He juggled a coffee tray with assorted drinks on his splinted wrist, a bag and Winston's leash which he dropped once he told Winston to sit. Phil handed Garrett a coffee, offered Simmons her own cup and he rolled his eyes when she refused to take it. "It's not poisoned. It's just tea. A proper cup of tea. No tea bag, but properly strained tea leaves. One sugar cube. Just the way you like it."

She took it.

Winston sat next to Jemma and placed his head in her lap. She hesitantly scratched his head and he leaned towards her, offering unconditional doggie love.

"See… Winston doesn't blame you," offered Garrett. "However, Phil, what are you doing here?"

"Picked up a few things at his apartment. If he's in traction, he'll need something to wear," Phil offered even while Simmons mouthed, 'traction?'

"Dare I hope you brought the sarong?" Garrett asked. His smile was crooked and his eyes were quite amused.

"One S.H.I.E.L.D. sarong in the bag," Phil admitted while Simmons mouthed, 'SARONG?' "Grabbed a few Harry Bosch books and Sudoku puzzle books. Yes. Simmons, a sarong. I don't think he'll be wearing dress pants for a few weeks."

He then sat on the other side of Jemma Simmons and he leaned back into the chair.

"News?" Phil asked.

"Looked like a clean pop," Garrett stated. "Doc says, if he can pop it back in and there's no damage, probably traction for two weeks, no weight bearing for a few more weeks until he can walk with a cane. Doc has to scope it to confirm no bone fragments. I hit Felix pretty hard when I tackled him."

"Traction at home or here?" Phil asked.

"Don't know. Do you think we'll be able to get him into his apartment? I'm not carrying him up three flights of steps if he won't do the elevator," Garrett admitted. "However, we're in luck as I have off the next week or so."

"We'll figure what we'll do when we know what the story is." Phil admitted even as Winston turned and faced the door. "Door's opening."

* * *

Felix Blake was so fucking drugged that he was floating in the stratosphere.

"Shitttt, look at how glassy his eyes are," he heard someone exclaim. "How much good stuff did you give him?"

He waved his right hand vaguely in the direction of the voice to let them know that he had heard them. Then he realized that she was there… **_Her_** …. No doubt to finish him off. Hopefully, not with a bowling ball.

Wasn't very efficient way to off someone. After the bowling ball ran you over, you just lay there, like a bowling pin knocked over.

Buildings were better because if they fell on you, nobody would know.

Falling buildings were bad, however the absolute worst was buildings that had collapsed.

"Help," he mouthed as he couldn't do anything, not as drugged as he was, not as immobilized as he was. But he tried to scream so someone could hear him. There had to be someone out there, digging for him.

"He's trying to say something," the female said.

"Help," he repeated. His heart wildly raced along, about to bound out of his chest.

"Is he saying 'help'?'" a man asked.

"He's on some serious painkillers," said a third male voice. "He might be a little confused."

"Felix, it's Phil. Are you in pain?" the second voice asked.

"Help," he pleaded. "Help me, please."

"I think he's having a panic attack," said the first voice. In a softer tone, "Hey, Blakey. Phil and I are here. Plus Jemma's here and she promises to keep her bowling ball locked and loaded with the safety on. It's ok. You're safe."

Someone was rubbing his cheek, slowly and steadily, comfortingly, while someone reached for his wrist. He couldn't focus but the voice kept talking and talking and fucking talking. Garrett. It had to be Garrett as he never shut up. And the gentle stroking was Garrett because Phil wasn't capable of being that consistently gentle.

It wasn't that Phil didn't try, but…. It was difficult for him to judge how much pressure he was exerting.

"Garrett. Legs…. Can't move…" he protested.

"He's tacking along at 150 beats per minute."

"Felix, listen to me. You're coming out of the operation room. You hurt your leg so you can't move it. You're in the **_hospital_**. Doc's gonna give you some good stuff so heart doesn't pound out of your chest. Just close your eyes. Phil and I are here and we're wheeling you down to your room."

Felix nodded and gratefully drifted away. Naturally, they had to keep talking and sniping at each other as though he didn't need to rest.

"You had to mention the bowling ball, didn't you?" **_Phil_**. Phil Coulson. Thank God that Phil was there else he'd wake up toes emblazoned with hot pink toenail polish.

"Yes, he was worried."

Naturally, Phil wasn't having any of Garrett's shit.

"He was having a panic attack and you had to…. throw… the bowling ball comment in."

_Thanks a hell of a lot, Phil._

THWACK, as Phil Coulson, Avenging Angel, Defender of the Downtrodden and Boweled Over, hit Garrett on the back of his head. It was an impressive sound and Felix was annoyed that he missed the mighty blow.

_Thanks Phil, I always liked you better._

**_"OW! Did you have to hit me so hard!"_ **

"Your head is as empty as your soul, Garrett, so no harm done."

"Shut the fuck up, get a room already," Felix mumbled. "Let her watch as she's into that."

He was too loud as Simmons inhaled. Loudly.

"What did Sleeping Felix just say? It must have been really good as his filter is off and Simmons is blushing. Come on, sharing is caring."

"Felix is a very naughty boy, Garrett," she stated in a very posh British accent. "Is this his room?"

The stretcher turned a few corners and Phil mentioned something about a slider board. It was enough to doze while they did whatever. He was so drugged that he didn't even flinch when they slid him from stretcher to bed, though thankfully someone managed his legs.

"Simmons! No peeking!" Goddamn Garrett again.

"I am NOT peeking," she protested.

"No, more of a genitalia gawk, I'd say. Simply shocking for our… third or fourth date. What date is this? Jemma fainted on the first one. We did the starwatching, there was Sushi night and today was date number four. I think we need to have an ambulance on standby for our next Group Date Night."

"GARRETT!" Phil was not amused.

"Hate you ALL," mumbled Felix as he tried to cover his pelvis with a blanket or something. Really, hopefully Garrett was just being a jack ass and he had NOT displayed his nature endowment. Especially as he was quite vulnerable and unable to defend his virtue if Jemma Simmons was overcome by an insane desire to mount an old man who couldn't move to defend himself.

"Winston! Not on the bed. Not yet. Jemma? Could you leave, we need to get Felix positioned and presentable?"

* * *

"I brought the fan," Phil explained to John Garrett who was busy putting away Felix's various necessities. There were Sudoku puzzles, Harry Bosch books to read, dog biscuits for Winston and a cheap tablet that Felix used only for Angry Birds. (Or as John Garrett called it, Angry Felix) Plus the small fan which helped Felix sleep by providing white noise and a slight breeze.

After they had finished fussing and making him presentable, Felix thanked them both and told them to leave. Actually, he brusquely told them to get the #% out.

"Kiss first," Phil insisted. He leaned over and gave Felix a quick buzz on the cheek. "I'll come back later today. Call me if you need anything."

Garrett then kissed Blake also, and then rubbed Felix's face. "Already planning the 'Welcome Home Blake Gang Bang'," he informed Felix.

"I'll let you know when my orthopedic clears me," Blake quipped. "Put Winston in bed, won't you?"

John Garrett put Winston on the bed, and the dog decided to rest on his master's good side. Felix began stroking Winston and the dog loudly sighed.

"I'll stay for a while," John Garrett offered.

"That's awfully considerate considering you have nothing else to do as you were suspended again," Blake mumbled.

"I even have a special book that I put on my smart phone just to help Blake fall asleep," Garrett announced. "Close your eyes, Blake, and I'll read it to you."

Phil didn't bother to hide his amusement, and Blake just shook his head.

"I'd like to hear it," Phil announced.

John Garrett cleared his throat and began to speak in soft, soothing tones, "The cats nestle close to their kittens, The lambs have laid down with the sheep. You are cozy and warm in your hospital bed, my Felix. Please go the fuck to sleep."

Blake groaned as he was trapped, with no way of escape, and Phil knew it was time for his own exit. He said his goodbyes and met Jemma Simmons in the hallway.

"Should I say goodbye?" Jemma asked. "I have to return Garrett's jacket to him."

"You can pop in, but Garett's reading Blake a story. It's rather crude, so you may want to pop in and then disappear."

She exited faster than he had anticipated and her cheeks were quite rosy. "That is a rather crude bedtime story."

"That's our Johnny," quipped Phil. "Do you need a ride home?"

"I could call a cab," she suggested.

"I'll drive you," he insisted.

"Do you have Lola?" she asked.

"Yes."

* * *

Lola was a sweet ride and Phil was rather quiet while he drove Jemma home.

"I have a question," Jemma Simmons asked.

"Go ahead, shoot. With the question, not a gun, please," Phil quipped.

"Are you three all involved?" Jemma asked. "I saw you kiss Blake and John did also. Are all three of you gay? Because Fitz says you're not, but he can't explain the vibes he gets from you three. I thought you and John were hetero and Felix was probably asexual, but I saw how John stroked Blake's face when he coming out from anesthesia."

Phil slammed on the brakes and stopped the car in the middle of the intersection. Since it was three AM there was no traffic. Fortunately, else Lola would have been re-ended.

"I know a diner where we can chat," he finally offered. "I have to admit that I wasn't anticipating that question."

"Yes or no would be sufficient," Jemma announced.

"It's complicated, and I haven't eaten since lunch, which was fifteen hours ago? It'll be my treat," he offered.

She nodded and he made a U turn and three lefts.

* * *

"Hi Phil!" The red-haired waitress greeted him as he entered Drew's Diner. It was an old fashion diner, with a great deal of chrome, but it was clean and neat, Jemma noticed.

"Hello Candace," Phil answered. "This is Jemma, this is Candace."

"John or Felix showing up, or just you two?" The waitress asked. "I have biscuits for Winston."

"Just us, got a quiet booth?" Phil asked. "And I need a large cup of coffee, Jemma?"

"Tea would be lovely," she requested.

They sat in a very comfortable booth and after Jemma spent far too long deciding what she wanted, they placed their order. Candace then left them alone, and an exhausted Phil rubbed his tired eyes.

"This has been an incredibly long day," he finally admitted. "And this discussion might be highly embarrassing for both of us, but I'll do my best. The three of us are all solid twos on the Kinsey Scale. You're familiar with it, correct? So we're heterosexuals, predominately with occasional homosexuality, but since really our homosexual activity is limited to just the three of us, I'm not sure if we're just actually 1s. With me so far?"

She nodded her head.

"The three of us love women. I don't mean it in a bad way, but women are lovely creatures, regardless of size, coloring whatever. I enjoy having sex with women, and I know that John and Felix prefer having sex with women. I've had numerous flings with the fairer sex over the years, some serious, some not so much, but since I died and came back, nobody's wanted to dally with a Zombie. I also have that tactile anesthesia, so I can't feel when people touch me, and I can't feel anything when I touch them."

He took a long sip of coffee and placed the cup back on the table.

"I loved touching and kissing. I took a great deal of personal pride in ensuring my partners had orgasms before I did, because ladies first. Cuddling on Sundays mornings was a personal favorite, but … really, no one's very interested cuddling with a corpse. I'm fifty years old, Jemma. I can assure you that my sexual drive didn't stop when I came back. I still want to have sex…"

Phil Coulson stopped and sighed.

"I'm not about to throw you on the table and ravage you, Jemma. You look like a terrified Bambi."

"This is a very frank conversation," she admitted.

"It gets worse, are you ready?" He waited until she murmured her consent. "Both John and Felix are in the same exclusive club, being fifty years old plus and wanting to have sex but having a dearth of partners. Felix was in a long term relationship before New York. After New York, she just couldn't handle the profound changes in Felix so she walked out on him. He was in a really bad way and John and I took him to bed. These days, we don't do it every night, maybe a couple times a month, and we're usually a bit drunk when we do it. Any more questions?"

"Do you usually have threesomes?" Jemma asked.

"Normally it's just two of us. On the rare occasion, we do have a threesome. We rotate positions, so whoever is in the middle gets all the affection. However, we usually put Felix in the middle when he's in a bad way. Sadly, since we're all over fifty, if you're hoping for a porn video, it sure as hell ain't. Too many formerly broken body parts that don't bend like that anymore. Plus none of us are hung like that, though you did get quite the gander at Felix's pride and joy today."

"Did not," she protested.

He smirked. "Of course you didn't," he said in a very patronizing tone. "Because you're a good girl, and good girls don't stare when the draw sheet is accidentally moved. Of the three of us, he has probably the largest…"

"Oh good God!" she whimpered.

"Hands," he continued, as he was most assuredly smirking at her reaction. "I hear there's a correlation, supposedly?"

"When you…. Do you feel it?" Jemma softly asked.

"Yes, though I miss the fun of getting aroused by being touched. I was very tactile in my kinks, and they assure me it's all psychosomatic, that it will come back in time. I think they're full of shit," He admitted and then he smiled. "Here comes our pancakes."

Phil Coulson thanked Candace for her service and they began to eat. The pancakes smeared in fruit topping, syrup and butter were deliciously yummy, Jemma had to admit, so they ate in silence for a while.

"Next question?" he asked during a break in eating.

"How do I not cause problems with the three of you?" She asked.

"I don't know what you mean."

"I'm supposed to be dating you three and selecting one of you for the dubious honor of fathering my children," she reminded him.

"I know this seems very hard to believe, after meeting John Garrett, but we're all adults. There will be no issues if you chose John or Felix and not me. I can say the same for them. We discussed this prior to the first time we met you, and we know that this will be far more difficult for you than for us. We know that you'll have to date each one of us, and I'm sure that you're gonna kick our tires at least once."

She blushed and he reached for her hand to give it a comforting squeeze.

"I worry," she admitted. "I don't want to ruin your friendship."

Phil Coulson leaned towards her and smiled. "Jemma Simmons, that's Felix's role in this insanity. He's the worrier, John's the joker and I'm the balance. Now eat your pancakes before they get cold."


	16. Pancakes and Paramours

Jemma finished her simply delicious (And carb-filled) breakfast and Phil picked up the tab, even while she futilely protested at his largesse.

"Simmons… Jemma… you have to understand a few things about older men. Date night we pay because it's how we were taught to behave when we were younger. We don't expect sex, or anything else from you in repayment for picking up the tab. However, a thank you would not be amiss."

He smiled at her, and she was amused by his devilish dimples.

"You blush very easily, you know that?" Coulson remarked.

"Since I met you three I've noticed that," she snipped. "I seem to be in a state of perpetual embarrassment."

"That's because you're unfortunately a rarity, an innocent that has fallen in with a very debauched crowd. Could be an extraordinary learning experience."

That earned Phil Coulson an eye roll.

"Any more questions about the Three Musketeers?" Phil asked as he placed a generous tip out for Candace. "Especially about the fact that we're Kinsey 2s? I hope that it's not that surprising to you that while we're older, we still desire closeness and affection. You young women don't have the lock on that particular need, you know. It's just after you pick up a few physical and mental scars plus cybernetic parts, it's harder to find someone that's interested in closeness and affection. That can look past the fact that I have three gift subscriptions to "The Walking Dead" comic thanks to Jasper Sitwell. I don't even think about 'tru luv' anymore. I experienced it once and she died."

His tone was flat and he looked away for a moment to compose himself.

"Poor, poor Aramis," Jemma whispered.

His eyes lit up when he realized that he was talking to someone who knew the classics.

"You think I'm the musketeer who wants to be a priest?" Phil asked. "I guess you're right as John is most assuredly Porthos the extrovert, Felix is Athos as he's very reticent."

"You make it sound so easy, this odd relationship of yours. I'm sorry, I just don't understand how you make it work," Simmons questioned. "I mean…."

"No, it wasn't in the beginning. We wanted different things, and we weren't sure how the hell to give it, let alone receive it. It was like two virgins in the back of the Chevy, except there were three of us. I mean, John wanted sex, but what type? What way? Plus, he was deeply grieving for his team who he watched die. And Felix desired to end his solitude. To have a normal relationship where someone would **_willingly_** want to spend time with him. To have a beer after work or see a movie. Plus he wanted some frickle freckle with someone who could handle him and his issues," Phil added.

She scrunched her eyes shut and shook her head.

"Oops, frickle frackle. I think I shall say it every time I see you just to watch you blush," Phil gently teased.

"I can say fuck," she announced. Well, she tried, as she stuttered on the word.

"Of course, you can," he teased before he turned serious. "Quite frankly, even to this day, this relationship of ours is not normal by any means. While I just wanted to touch someone and give them… pleasure. To prove to myself I was still human, because, really sex is a _quintessential_ act of humanity. Felix wanted to connect… and I thought I could …"

Simmons knew she was really blushing as she just imagined the two of them, in bed, together.

"I was a little rough with Felix at first, because I truly desired to give him what I thought he wanted. The severity of my seduction attempt was not intentional, and he didn't tell me until I noticed a bruise. It just a thumb print, it's not like I slapped him, but still, it was a bruise that I had given him. Felix knew it would bother me and that I hadn't done it deliberately. He didn't mention it because he feared I'd leave and he'd be stuck in his apartment, all alone. He was partially right, as I did leave because I had turned something that should be enjoyable and pleasant and nice… into something painful."

He grimaced, slightly, as he confessed, "It still disturbs me deeply."

"You came back," she offered.

"Garrett ripped me a new hole or three, and he not so gently reminded Felix that trust was needed on all ends of this relationship, so if I accidentally hurt him, he should inform me. In spite of Garrett's Garretness, he's really good with Felix. Sometimes, Felix really needs a good kick in the ass."

Simmons nodded her head.

"Has to be applied carefully, or else he'll shatter, but Garrett will kick him in the ass when it needs to be done. I prefer not to do it, but I have. Successfully."

Phil took a very long sip of his coffee and then sighed.

"Now also please understand that this odd little arrangement between us is **_known_** , but not **_public_** , if you know what I mean. I'd prefer to keep my personal life private, for no other reason. It's not because I'm ashamed to admit that I've frickle frackled Blake and Garrett. You can tell Fitz some of it, but I'd prefer if he didn't know what went down between me and Blake. Not too proud of that. And for the love of God, keep your mind out of the gutter, Simmons. Not everything I say should be taken as a double entendre."

"I wasn't in the gutter," she protested.

"You are such a horrible liar, Simmons," Coulson retorted. "I know what you were thinking just now."

They walked out to Lola and he opened the door for her. "Oh, by the way, as I know you're curious. Felix is incredibly systematic and exhaustive and Garrett is oral as hell."

Jemma Simmons stopped dead and Phil Coulson laughed. "And yes, that's payback for making me slam on my brakes in the middle of the intersection."

"I thought you were the nice one…." She gasped.

He shrugged his shoulders and displayed his simply adorable dimples as he smiled. Wickedly. "I am, Simmons. I most assuredly am."

"And what are you then?" she asked.

"I'm the recovering sensualist who desperately wishes he could touch your hair and feel its softness."

Jemma Simmons took his hand and placed it on her hair. His fingers tightened but gently around one of her curls.

"You can, as it's our fourth date," she reminded him.

"Fifth group date," he reminded her. "There was one where you swooned, the one with Winston, stargazing, sushi and now bowling night which had managed to surpass your swooning as quite possibly the worst date in the recorded history of the entire universe."

"And this is our first solo date," she reminded him.

He shook his head. "No, this is not our first solo date. Our first solo date is planned for several months hence."

"It's already **_planned_**?"

"Scheduled," he admitted. "I've already made reservations for a very nice restaurant."

His fingers were still in her hair, and he ever so gently pushed her hair away from her cheek. He then gently brushed his fingers against her cheek and then put this hands in his pockets.

"You have no idea how much I wish I could have felt that," he softly admitted. "No idea at all, Simmons."

"Is there anything else planned for our solo date?" she whispered.

"I will kiss you for the very first time. I hope you'll wear the Penhaligons English Fern again. It suits you. It took me a moment to recognize your perfume, but the gardenias and lavenders, dead giveaway," He dimpled again and then sighed as he looked at his watch. "Long, long night, and I have to be to work at seven."

"I won't recognize you tomorrow since you won't be wearing the Corvette bowling shirt."

"Christmas gift from Garrett," he explained. "I thought a suit and tie wouldn't work for bowling and I should actually wear it."

"What about Felix?" Simmons asked. "After all, I crippled him."

"Do you cook?" was Phil's surprising response. "Do you have something you make really well? Something that can be refrigerated? He'll be in traction for two weeks, after that, no weight bearing for two months or so, that means crutches. Make him a home cooked meal, he'll be happy."

"I can do that," she happily announced.

"And have dinner with him when you bring it over," Phil added.

Her face fell.

"Come now, you had a long interesting conversation over delicious pancakes with me regarding the sexual habits of three old men and it's obvious you can talk with Garrett. You also cuddled up with Garrett when you fell asleep, so… you need to learn how to talk with Felix. He doesn't bite, but he also isn't very gregarious."

"I could make two weeks' worth of meals instead," she offered which just proved how desperate she was, as she couldn't cook.

He frowned at her and shook his head and she sighed. "He'll be angry at me."

"He won't be angry at you, Jemma. He'll blame himself because you're obviously avoiding him. Visit him tomorrow, bring him coffee."

* * *

She returned to her flat to find Fitz waiting for her. She didn't say anything, instead she changed and went to bed. Fitz crawled into bed next to her.

"Spill," he ordered. "Felix?"

"Dislocated hip, Garrett stitches and Coulson has a badly sprained wrist."

"Love, you don't do anything by halfsies, do you?" His voice was quite soft and his Scottish burr thick, which made her eyes well up.

She shook her head.

"I'm glad you went to the hospital to see how he made out. He waited for you when you did a face plant. Then what else did you do? Did you really spend six hours in the hospital? You didn't spend six hours in the hospital for me when I got electrocuted," protested Fitz.

"I did too! However, I fell asleep on Garrett and Phil took me out for pancakes so we could chat," Jemma admitted.

"What did you chat about? Can you tell me?" Fitz asked.

"If I tell you, promise you won't say anything," Jemma requested.

"Promise," he assured her.

"The boys seem to have a long standing relationship of being friends with benefits," she explained.

"You've been hanging out with Skye too much, I don't understand you," Fitz protested. "Unless you're saying that they…"

She nodded. Fitz pondered it for a bit

"Interesting. Could explain why Blake is comfortable with them, relaxed enough to tease them," Fitz said. "They're together, but not really together. So what else?"

"I'm making him rare roast beef and Yorkshire pudding," she whispered.

"Simmons! You can't cook!" protested a laughing Fitz. "Bad enough you dislocated his hip, but are you trying to murder him? Death by cooking, Simmons?"

"That's why you'll help me," Simmons informed him as Fitz could cook.

"Scottish cooking is not the same as English cooking," protested Fitz.

Simmons groaned, "He's an American, so throw in a bitter or three and he'll never know."

"Dear God, I don't want to get involved with your Simmons Shenanigans. However, for the safety of poor Agent Blake, I must." Fitz laughed and the two besties embraced. "You doing ok with all this?"

"No," she admitted.

"Have a lie in tomorrow. Take half a day and come in after lunch," he suggested.

"I'll have to do the walk of shame," she protested.

"No, saunter on in. Be proud of the fact that you put a man in traction and put two men in the casualty ward. You're the British Black Widow…." Fitz then giggled. "Ok, you're just Jemma the awkwardly adorable who took out three senior agents with her kamikaze bowling skills. Seriously, what the hell happened?"

"I lost control of the ball. I didn't mean to do it! Oh, Fitz, I don't know what I'd do without you," she admitted.

"You'd do fine, I, on the other hand, would be utterly lost in a lonely pit of darkness and despair." Fitz's jovial tone disappeared and Jemma embraced him again.

* * *

When she arrived at her lab, she noticed that everyone was staring, from senior agents on down to secretaries. She held her head up high, walked slowly as though she was in control and not afraid or embarrassed that she had taken out three senior level agents. With a bowling ball. NO, she was goddamn proud of the fact.

Let the rumors fly as people would treat her with respect and a little trepidation.

Her composure went to shite when she entered her lab to discover three stuffed bowling pins. Each pin had little faces on them, and someone(s) had taken a great deal of time to scribble in hairlines and war injuries. There was a spray of blooms (gardenias and lavender) and a card.

"They were here when I arrived, " Fitz informed her before he pointed at a bowling pin that had graying, spiky hair, a rather stern look on its face and a pair of wooden crutches plus a small stuffed dog. "I guess that one is Felix."

"The scowly face is a dead giveaway," she retorted. "Plus the tie."

She nervously opened the card, and then read it all the while wearing a horrified look on her face. She put down the card and she sank into a chair as her legs decided not to support her. Ignoring Fitz's concerned questioning, she promptly placed her face on the lab table.

"Bugger," she protested. "Bugger, bugger, bugger. Oh my good GOD!"

"What?" Fitz asked.

"Read the card," she whispered.

"Dearest Dr. Simmons, She of the brilliant brain and the exceptionally horrendous aim," he enunciated. "What can we do but admit that you bowled us pinheads over? The date is still on for Thursday night at seven at Blake's apartment. Your adoring corps of walking wounded and tractioned paramours."

Fitz laughed after he finished reading it out loud.

"Simmons, you are certainly involved with three rather remarkable men."


	17. It's All Greek To Simmons

"You know Blake, this looks like a very strange sexual gadget," offered John Garrett as he stared at a supine Felix Blake who was locked into a traction device.

"I'll let you borrow when I'm done with it. I'll even throw in a gag," snapped Blake as he struggled to make himself comfortable.

"Hurts, I take it," Garrett offered. "Should have stayed in the hospital where all the pretty candy strippers…"

"Stripers," dryly inserted Phil.

"Would be lined up to give you a sponge bath. Plus they would have given you the really good drugs. It would have been like you were a rock star, Blake."

"Wanted my own bed," Felix explained. "My pillows. They wouldn't have let Winston stay with me."

John Garrett sat in a chair that was next to the bed. "I just think you would have gotten much better care if you had stayed in the hospital. You wouldn't be in such pain, ok? You'd be hooked up to a morphine pump and you'd be a happy camper."

"Didn't know you cared," Blake growled.

"I wish I knew how to quit you," John dryly admitted even while he drew up a hypodermic needle. "Now, smile, sunshine."

He jabbed Felix with the hypodermic needle with a practiced ease and he instructed Blake to count back from fifty. His patient made it to thirty something before he was out cold. Winston sighed and put his head on his master's chest. Sometimes, Winston had to regretfully admit that his owner was exhausting.

"Next time, don't agree when Felix wants to come home," Garrett chastised Phil. "You're supposed to be the sane one, the responsible one in this triumvirate of idiots."

"Blake doesn't handle hospitals well, you know that," Coulson protested.

"I know," Garrett agreed. "Now, since our Femme Fatale is coming over tonight, we need to sweep the apartment. "

"Felix's apartment is clean enough for surgery," Phil protested.

"Book sweep," Garrett stated as he picked up _Stop Obsessing! How to Overcome Your Obsessions and Compulsions._

Phil nodded his understanding and placed _The OCD Workbook: Your Guide to Breaking Free from Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder_ anda dogged ear paperback with a broken spine, _A Workbook for Overcoming Social Anxiety (Why is it so God Damn Hard for Me to Have a Conversation?)._

"Phil, I think our boy Felix is a tad smitten with Simmons," Garrett softly offered. "He gets really anxious around her."

"Can't blame him," Phil admitted. "She did throw a bowling ball at him."

"Knocked him off his feet," Garrett quipped.

"No, that was you," Phil snapped.

* * *

John Garrett was a smart ass, sassy, sarcastic SOB. He was also too damn protective of his new team, even though technically they weren't his team because Felix and Phil weren't field agents, not anymore. Plus. John Garrett didn't do teams anymore, not after he watched Mickey and Max… He shut down that fault… but he knew as the senior agent, he had failed to protect the kids, so he'd endeavor even harder to keep Phil and Felix safe.

And keeping Felix safe meant that he'd have to keep Felix's social anxiety manageable, especially if Felix was interested in Simmons. That meant he located all of Felix's various books on OCD and threw them into his (Garrett's) bedroom because Felix would be horrified… **_horrified_** if Simmons saw his personal accumulation of self-help book. One might say (God forgive him) that Felix Blake was obsessed with self-help books on OCD, as though one might be the magical panacea that would cure him.

Phil was sitting on Garrett's bed, and reading a ragged, broken spine book with a rather disgusted look on his face. "Nicolette gave this to Felix. He read it and read it, as you can tell by the condition."

"Ah, dear sweet Nicolette," Garrett growled. "Sorry, Felix, it's been fun for these last few years, but you're too crazy for me to deal with, so sucks to be you as I'm leaving. What's the title?"

" _How to Let Go of an Unhealthy Relationship_ ; _When Letting Go is the Best for the Other Person,_ " Phil explained.

"I never liked her," was all Garrett said, though his voice was quite tight. "Winston didn't either as he shredded her shoes repeatedly. What's the game plan for tonight?"

"Greek and I'm thinking either movies or a board game. Something that won't be too strenuous for Felix, but won't be too horrifying for Simmons."

"I guess that means no _Cards against Humanity_ or _Loaded Questions_."

Phil, survival of a man verses crazed alien with Daddy issues attack, trembled in fear.

"Can you imagine Jemma Simmons with those games?" He protested.

"I don't have any desire to watch Disney," protested John Garrett.

"John, she knows about us," Phil stated as he leaned back into Garrett's bed so he was sitting against the headboard and his legs were stretched out on the bed. There was a tenseness and wariness in how Phil sat, as though he was anticipating John Garrett's intense displeasure.

A sighing Garrett sat on the bed next to Phil and he placed his arm around the other man's shoulders. He brushed his fingers against Coulson's cheek once. While Garrett knew that Coulson couldn't feel his touch, Coulson could _see,_ and know that affection had been given and not withheld. He felt a tense Coulson relax.

"Why'd you tell her?" Garrett asked.

"She asked me, as we do have a very odd relationship. She picked up on the odd vibes and the fact that I gave Felix a kiss on the cheek when I left his hospital room. She also noticed that you buzzed him."

"How heavily should Felix be medicated when we informed him?" John asked, stressing the _we_. "How did she respond?"

"I believe that she found the idea of three old men…" Phil began but he stopped as Garrett cursed.

"Horrifying?"

"Understandable," Phil slowly admitted. "We had a long conversation about it, and she was able to wrap her mind around why the three of us have this odd little arrangement."

"She is a great deal smarter than the three of us," Garrett offered.

"I fear that she wants dinner and a show," Phil admitted while an embarrassed Garrett coughed. "You and I doing all the work while Felix relaxes and enjoys if you know what I mean."

Garrett, surprisingly enough, blushed and whistled in disbelief.

"She did take a long look at Felix's fidelis after all. Did everything but whip out a tape measure and lick her lips in eager anticipation while a terrified Felix was immotile and screaming for help," Garrett stated when the power of speech returned to him. "She's not as innocent as she appears."

"She is," disagreed Phil. "She most assuredly is as inexperienced as we feared."

"Then why is she so …."

"She seems to instinctively trust us, and part of her really wants to enjoy the experience," Phil decided after a long consideration. "Part of her is terrified, so that explains all the mixed signals. I feel like I'm on a roller coaster with her."

"Why though?" Garrett asked. "Why does she trust us? She **_fainted_** when she first met us. Twice."

"Her ID wants the experience, craves it, as her Super Ego has severely repressed that part of herself after whatever happened at the Academy. Her Super Ego is screaming, fuck no, they're old! But her Ego is noticing how we treat each other, that this arrangement is not based on just sex."

"It's a damn good part of it," Garrett inserted.

"You're an ass, Garrett. Sex is part of it, but mainly, we're a bunch of really damaged, lonely old men."

"So, tonight it's Greek food and Shoots and Ladders? Candy Land?" Garrett asked.

"I was thinking WordWile actually. I don't think she will be familiar with the rules so that's the only way we might be able to beat that brain of hers," Phil decided. "Felix has the set right?"

"Yes. I'll get it set up. Felix loves WordWile as he sees patterns and arrays."

"I know," Phil admitted. "I hope WordWile will help him focus on the game, not on how anxious Simmons makes him."

* * *

"You're visiting someone you maimed, Simmons. You should bring a trifle. I made these for you to bring," Fitz reminded her as he presented her with box that held a large cellophane wrapped Tipsy Laird and smaller one. "I also went to the bookstore and picked up several books that he might like to read."

She clutched the box in her hands and Fitz sighed.

"Don't drop it," Fitz chastised with his unique mixture of true fondness and Scottish exasperation. "You remember what's in it?"

"Custard," she whispered.

"Sponge cake," he reminded her.

A terrified Simmons nodded.

"Why are there two of them?" he prompted.

"Liquor," Skye finally answered when Jemma said nothing. While Skye had been informed that in her dual positions of Felix's Bane of his Corporal Existence (aka Assistant) and Jemma Simmons' Social Coordinator that she wasn't invited to Felix's apartment, she had still decided to support Simmons in her first date Post Maiming Felix Blake. (And play video games with Fitz, as between his tech skills and her hacking, they were kicking ass and taking names in Call of Duty.)

"Which one has the liquor?" Skye asked.

Simmons looked Skye as she knew that she'd get nothing but tough love from Fitz and she whispered, "Help."

"The smaller one doesn't have liquor just in case Blake shouldn't have alcohol due to his medication." Skye helpfully reminded Simmons.

"No, no, no. You crippled them, you get to deal with them, not Skye," Fitz protested. "Skye, can you give us a minute?"

A disappointed Skye went into the living room, leaving the two scientists alone. However, in her role of Social Coordinator, she felt that it was very important to eavesdrop.

"Do you have your pills?" Fitz asked. "I know you don't." Then he held out the bottle and put it into her purse.

"FITZ!" Wailed Simmons.

"You need to have them with you," he reminded her. "You're dating now, and dating usually means sex, Simmons. You've all been tested, and since you're all clean, and they're monogamous, they probably won't bother with rubbers. Safely first, but it's like wearing a rain coat."

"FIIIITTTTTTZZZZZZ," Simmons shrieked.

"I doubt it's happening tonight, Simmons. You maimed them, and they've been stitched, splinted and tractioned. That usually doesn't bode well for sex, Simmons, but just in case, it's always best to be prepared. Maybe I should give you some rubbers just to be safe. You mentioned that Blake was pretty…"

"We are not having this conversation," Simmons firmly announced. "We are not having this conversation."

"So maybe I should give you the ribbed ones," Fitz continued even while Simmons blushed. "Studded, dotted… or maybe the pleasure plus ones, as that way it's really good for both of you. Do you have any lube? You'll probably be nervous and …."

"Not having this conversation," wailed Simmons to the uncaring universe, who due to a fit of pique over Simmons' maiming of several top agents, was not listening to her pleas for assistance. In fact, the universe, being partial to older, balding SHIELD Agents, was relishing her discomfort, and was cackling in delighted glee.

"We are, and Skye is listening. SKYE! Can you be less obvious please?" Fitz stated, his Scottish burr quite thick.

There was a knock on the door and Simmons nearly dropped her trifles.

"Must be Coulson!" Fitz cheerfully announced. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Relax, have fun. They're probably more scared of you than you are of them."

"We are," admitted Coulson, who had been let into the apartment by the traitor, Skye. "We're absolutely terrified of her and worry how she'll top Tuesday night. Let me get that for you."

He took the box from her limp hands and he winked at Fitz.

"Promise to have her back by 11 at the latest," Coulson assured Fitz.

"What are your plans for her?" Fitz asked, sounding suspiciously paternal.

"Mainly, we're visiting Felix so he doesn't get too stir crazy. We need to pick up dinner and we'll play a board game or three. WordWile, it's like Scrabble on steroids. "

"Call me if you're spending the night," Fitz requested even while Simmons wished she could sink into the floor and die. DIE. DIE.

"She won't, Dad," Coulson guaranteed.

"You make sure of that," Fitz insisted, as he put his hands on his hips.

* * *

They stopped for a previously ordered take away and before long (far too quickly for Jemma) they were at the boy's apartment building.

"We're just visiting Felix," Phil gently chastised her. "Not being lead to your execution."

"Promise?" She requested.

"Promise," he said, as he put his key into the door. He stopped before he opened the door and looked at her. His kind eyes were quite concerned but there was an amused twinkle that made her nervous as he was quite amused. "You do realize that you'll be in Felix' bedroom with three men and a dog right?"

She nodded once.

"Try to keep your mind out of the gutter," he requested. At her completely gobsmacked expression, he winked. "Imagine the bed for sleeping. That's it, ok?"

Bastard!

"We're here," he called as he entered the apartment.

"Down the hall," called Garrett.

Coulson entered the apartment and realized that Simmons wasn't following him.

"He's not angry at you, I promise," he softly stated. "However, I'm disappointed that you didn't reach out to him. No visit in the hospital, no attempt at a phone call, no email. It would have been nice. I think he would have liked to have heard from you. It's not like Felix has a great many friends. However, Fitz and Skye both dropped him a note. They said that you were mortified over what happened and nervous about talking to him."

"How do you know that they said that?" Jemma asked.

"Felix asked if you had any reaction to the stuffed Bowling Pins. None of us heard from you regarding them," Phil informed her. "We thought you'd get a laugh at least."

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to locate three, three feet tall stuffed bowling pins?" Garrett asked as he took several of the carry out bags from Phil.

"How's Felix?" Phil asked.

"Doc called. Radiologist did another reading on his xray. Might have chipped the hip so he's really upset. Plus, he's already stir crazy as he was forced to watch daytime TV today. That Dr. Phil guy is ... fucking crazy and the people he had on his show? I felt my IQ dropping as I watched it. But I couldn't change the channel as it was like liquid crack."

"I brought some books," Simmons finally offered. "Fitz suggested them."


	18. Saganaki and Simmons

"But I sent a card to apologize," Simmons protested. "I sent one to both of you also."

A stunned Phil Coulson stopped dead in his tracks as Simmons timidly offered, "I spent a lot of time trying to find the right one."

It was the truth, plus there had been a rather thin selection of card shops open at seven in the morning and none, NONE of them, had cards suitable for Maiming and Scarring by Bowling Ball.

"That's nice, Jemma, we'll blame the delay on the post office," John Garrett announced as he offered Simmons his arm. "But you didn't have to do that. Accidents happen and we understand that, **_right_** , Phil?"

Phil nodded and apologized even while Jemma brushed it off. His justified criticism wasn't quite in the same league as bowling down three senior agents after all.

* * *

Felix Blake stared at the ceiling and wished that he was unconscious because the thought of ouzo, flaming saganaki and Simmons (in the same room) while he was traction (in the SAME ROOM) terrified him. (Did he mention yet, a blazing Greek cheese and Simmons and him in traction in the same room yet?) As it would any other sane man (Coulson), while only a crazed fool would find it fun (Garrett) and decide that it would be a wonderful idea to invite Simmons (The Fiery Femme Fatale) into his bedroom. Winston, his faithful service dog, he of the shaggy beard and intense eyebrows, decided that an emotionally terrified Blake needed cheering, so Winston licked his face. After Winston licked Felix's face clean to his fastidious standards, he turned this face, rummaged for a bit and then dropped his leash on Felix' chest.

"No walkies," Felix informed his dog. "No runs, no ride in the jeep, Winston. Not for a while."

He was able to move slightly thanks to the trapeze, so he struggled to prop himself into a suitable position and he made damn sure he was covered. Especially **_there_** because he had no desire to flash Simmons as he vaguely remembered flashes of flashing her, which both Coulson and Garrett assured him that it didn't happen, which meant it had and how long had he been hanging out in the breeze?

"Protect me," he instructed Winston, who decided to ignore him as there were no walkies in Winston's immediate future.

Great, Winston was irked and Simmons knew about the truth about the three of them. The real fucking truth about them fucking and their little pantomime had worked so well for so long at the office. Coulson and he rolled their eyes at each other, held terse conversations and it was widely understood that they only tolerated each other because of John Garrett. After all, Coulson was Fury's Special Snowflake, Blake was a fucking desk jockey who barely functioned outside the office and scraped through the biannual psych reviews because the reviewers all felt sorry for him as he only had his job and Winston.

It didn't matter to him if everyone knew about him because everyone treated him like a fucking joke, but Sitwell and Ward would take it to a new, previously-unknown-to-Dante level in hell … Garrett wouldn't care, he'd eat it up, and make exasperating, grandiose passes at Sitwell and Ward until they stopped but poor, generally all around decent Coulson. Sitwell and Jasper… shit, shit, shit.

Not Phil, not the man who had calmed him down when he had unraveled after he had come home from work to discover Nicolette had left and taken just about every goddamn thing except for his Indian motorcycle and his Fender and his Gibson guitars. He had done everything Nicolette had wanted, had demanded and had requested of him and the bitch had still left on the very day that he had hesitantly asked over breakfast if they could have sex for the first time since New York.

She had smiled and squeezed his hand, which he had thought had meant yes, but instead it had been **_fuck off, loser_**. He had shaved at his office before he left for his long desired assignation as it had been a long period of celibacy due to his extensive rehabilitation from having a building collapse on top of him and he wanted everything to go perfectly, (Nicolette claimed his five o'clock shadow gave her a burn), ignored Claire's cattiness (and yes, his shrink had been correct, Claire equaled Nicolette because they both belittled him and used him because he let them because he didn't want to be alone and he'd do anything not to face the specter of being alone and he had kept them around him as he felt he didn't deserve better and they hadn't discussed Skye yet beyond his shrink saying 'Oh My Good God , what the hell where they thinking?' when he had heard who his new assistant was), had bought flowers and a fucking bottle of champagne that Coulson had recommended (As Blake was only the connoisseur of coffee) then had a near fucking breakdown when he came home to realize she had left, gifting him with only a pristine copy of _How to Let Go of an Unhealthy Relationship; When Letting Go is the Best for the Other Person_ with a scribbled _"It's for the best, Felix. I can't handle your issues as you really need help,"_ leaving him knowing that he had only tried harder, forced himself to solder together the fragmented pieces, she would have stayed.

And the bitch had taken his coffee machine. The really expensive one that Nick Fury had given him for unraveling the issue in Bosnia that saved all those agents' lives as an 'atta boy', a glorious machine that made really excellent coffee brewed at the perfect temperature.

Liquid nirvana.

At that point in Felix's rambling monologue, his therapist had informed him that Nicolette was a vindictive bitch that he was better off without because Nicolette only drank green tea and she hadn't needed the machine but had only done it to kick a man in the 'nads when he was down, and that if Winston hadn't been completely devoted and bonded to Felix, she probably would have tried to take his dog also.

Sometimes he wasn't sure if having a retired Howling Commando as his therapist was such a brilliant idea, but not then.

His thoughts raced, raced, raced in his head and he was trapped in bed, because they had tractioned him to stop the hip muscle spasms which had caused him to scream and weep like a little girl who had lost her dolly.

He needed pharmaceutical comfort, so Felix regretfully took the bottle out of his drawer and he opened it. He never ever took this stuff but Foster and his therapist had both agreed that he could take one…. One… pill twice a day, if he couldn't handle being bedbound.

Felix Blake couldn't handle it, not one minute longer.

He took the pill and relaxed into his bed, and hoped that his mind would stop racing.

* * *

"I have to confess that I think Winston does look a great deal like Felix, especially when they're both looking shaggy. The eyebrows and the beard, plus they both give me the stink eyes," John Garrett announced as they entered Felix's bedroom. "Watch this."

How utterly unhelpful, Simmons thought as she feared that she'd cackle in nervousness.

"Hey Blake!" Garrett called.

"Hey," was the rather unexpected result from a glassy eyed Felix Blake. He tilted his head and waved one hand in their general direction.

"Felix?" a concerned Coulson questioned.

"A little anxious about Bowling Betty here," he slurred. "They said I could take one if I needed and… shit this stuff is unreal. It's great though, my thoughts have stopped. I like not thinking. Wish I could do it more. Turn the thoughts off."

He snapped his fingers, or attempted to do so, and then he sunk back into his bed.

"So glad I'm not driving tonight," he admitted.

"I have a great idea, Phil and I will set up dinner and bring it in. You two chat," Garrett offered as he physically manhandled Phil out of the room.

Simmons looked longingly after the two men who had escaped and Felix sighed. Loudly.

"You don't have to be obviously terrified of me," he requested.

"I'm not," she insisted.

He tilted his head at her and smirked. "Liar…" he rumbled.

"I'm not lying, I'm trying to be polite!" Simmons protested.

"You are scared. More so of me, than the others. Garrett not so much, because you think he's funny. Phil, yes, definite terror there, but it's lessening probably due to your long conversation over pancakes at the diner. However, the monster that wakes Jemma Simmons up in the middle of the night, that caused her to clutch her teddy bear, is me. Your anxiety is coming through loud and clear to me, which makes me anxiousier… is that even a word? Anxiouser and uncomfortable about talking to you, which you pick up, and then exhibit back to me which in turn… gets me even more apprehensive. You've seen my social anxiety up close and personal. I actually practice conversations with imaginary people so if I ever speak to someone… I can make use of my practiced Blake banter. Hey, did you see the game last night? Are you a Scorpio? Never works, as I'm too busy cataloging, do they make eye contact? Do they look interested? Are they anxious about dealing with me? How do they stand when I talk to them? I can't turn the analysis off, and I can never have an easy conversation because I see… I comprehend…. that nobody wants to talk to me."

Felix Blake paused for a brief time before he spoke. "Except for Phil and John. Right now, you don't want to talk to me. You'd prefer if John or Phil were in the room as you desire a buffer when you are with me. You worry about dealing with me and my craziness and I can sense it."

He waited, she said nothing, so he continued, "Let's hash this out when I'm so bloody stoned that I'll have rambling conversations with absolutely no filter. This stuff is so good I could probably even talk with Nikki and tell her off."

"Nikki?" Simmons asked.

"Nicolette. She's in Accounting. Once upon a time, a long, long, long time ago, Phil had Audrey. I had Nicolette and John had his mouth but it was ok, because John loves to talk. He's his biggest fan."

"Audrey?" Simmons asked.

"Played the cello until the nuclear fallout occurred. Met her a few times, nice girl. Phil was head over heels for her. Not my story to tell, so I won't." He grimaced then and slowly inhaled and exhaled for a bit before he sighed.

"Your hip?" Simmons asked. "Should I call your doctor?"

"No, it's a spasm. They don't think I tore the labrum, but the muscles spasm now and then."

"I sent a card," Simmons explained. "I **_did_**."

"I wished you had dropped me an email, or left a voice message. I worried, **_naturally_** , when I didn't hear from you after the Bowling Ball Blitzkrieg." Self-mocking smile and Blake added, "You **_know_** how I am ** _."_**

"I feared you'd be angry with me…" she began, but she stopped once she realized that Felix Blake had placed the back of his fingers against her cheek. It was a profoundly intimate moment between her and the reticent Felix.

When he spoke, his voice was soft and affectionate, "I'd never be angry with you. When I first saw you at that Meet n' Greet n' Faint, the countless thoughts that fill my mind, that race and chase in my mental maelstrom were stilled. I **_thought_** … no… I **_knew_** you were beautiful, and I felt normal. For the first time in too long, I **_felt_** … normal. And I hoped that you would smile at me, and we'd talk. You would talk and I would listen. And if God herself had mercy on me, I'd be able to talk back, and all the hours of practicing that I had done would finally be worth it. But you were terrified and… I wanted nothing more than to reassure you that you could trust the three of us. Unfortunately, I quickly realized that I alarmed you the most and the psychological vortex came back, louder than ever, yelling and screaming about how Nicolette had walked out on me, and we had been together for years, so why would you…simply marvelous you… give me a second glance?"

Her eyes were brimming with tears, she knew it and Felix Blake removed his hand from her face.

"No tears because of me and my sad little story of woe," he requested.

"I'll do what I want, Agent Blake, and you can't say anything about it," she retorted and then she whispered, "That was a joke."

"Helps when you tell me that," he quipped.

They sat in silence for a bit and then Jemma asked, "Will you tell me more about Nicolette?"

Blake shook his head and explained, "I'm not that drugged. It's a long story and I haven't finished processing it. I'm sure you understand, after your experience with Avery at the Academy."

"You know about him?" Simmons asked.

"I know that he hurt you pretty badly because he was an idiot," Felix commented. "A lot like me."

"No," Jemma Simmons firmly stated, "Not at all like you."

They entwined their fingers and Blake smiled at her, an honest to goodness smile.

"Hey!" John Garrett catcalled down the hallway. He and Phil had been eavesdropping as well, they did work for an intelligence agency, and they had wanted Blake and Simmons to converse. Now that the two had, Garrett and Coulson were quite hungry. "Anyone up for flaming cheese?"


	19. Attack of the Deadly Moussaka

So totally Joss'd :)

* * *

"Where's the fire extinguisher?" Blake asked. He struggled and then winced when he jarred his injured hip. Simmons put her hands on his shoulders and tried to gently push him back into his bed. Instead of leaning back, helping her, an agitated Felix struggled against her gentle hands and whispered, "Don't...restrain… me… I can't handle that…. I can't…"

Simmons pulled back and Felix apologized. Over and over again.

"I'm sorry," Simmons whispered.

"My fault. Being held down is one of my myriad of trigger points. Grab a Flakey Blakey card and you can mark off my quirks. Stick around because a full Blake card wins you a brand new car. Let's see, you can check off claustrophobia, inability to converse except under the influence of heavy drugs, and absolutely no desire to be a sub if you want to roleplay."

He was serious, Jemma realized. About the Flakey Blakey card game. Either someone (Sitwell? Ward? Claire?) had made up the cards and he had taken the harassment, turned it into his joke, so he owned it, and the sting was lessened. (Not really, but he now owned the joke, much like Coulson had trademarked the Walking Dead Coulson jokes.) Or he had made them one night when he couldn't sleep.

"I don't want to play that game," Jemma informed him.

"Come on, the Flakey Blakey grand prize, is a really sweet car. It's a BMW M6 convertible. San Marino Blue metallic, leather seats, all the fixings," Blake offered. "You'll look amazing in it, long hair streaming in the wind."

Moved by something she couldn't explain, Jemma stroked his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned… **_leaned_** …. In her touch. Like a cat, like a terribly lonely man starved for physical affection.

"I do not wish to play the Flakey Blakey game."

A perplexed Felix opened his eyes before he repeated, "But the grand prize is a really sweet car. Better than what I gave Nicolette. I only got her a Mustang."

"She didn't deserved a rusted out Russian Lada where the air conditioning consisted of unrolling a window," snapped Jemma. "You should have given her a seatless unicycle."

"When the drugs wear off, l wonder if what I remember of this conversation will make more sense than it currently does," he mumbled. "Lord knows it doesn't now."

"I hope when the drugs wear off, you'll still be able to talk to me like this," Jemma requested.

He shook his head.

"Keep talking," she softly requested. "Please."

"It's time for flaming cheese," Felix reminded her. "I'll tell you that I'm completely terrified of you and fire in the same room. Remember you can check off 'Really Strange Flakey Blakey Fears that Make Everyone Go WTF' bonus spot on your Flakey Blakey card."

"I don't want to play that game," Jemma repeated.

"It's a really sweet car," Felix reminded her. "Don't you want to win it?"

"Not at your expense," she firmly stated.

"It's ok," he assured her. "I've got a thick skin and it's a really sweet car."

"No, it's **_not_**."

Her fierceness surprised him and he nodded his head.

"Ok, I'll make up a card for you and keep score then. You have to be in it to win it," he reminded her. "I know you'll probably be in need of a nice sensible family car shortly, but 560 horsepower. Convertible. Leather seats. Don't settle for minivan so easily."

Coulson coughed loudly and dramatically from the hallway.

"Easy, we set the cheese on fire in the kitchen, Blake. It's no longer on fire," Phil assured him from the doorway. He and Garrett brought a small table into Blake's bedroom and it was loaded down with various Greek delicacies. It took a bit of juggling to get the table near Blake's side of the bed. "Blake, stand down."

"The thought of Xena here and a flaming cheese in the same room scares me," Blake explained.

"Xena?" Jemma protested.

"She had that thing… that razor circle thing," Felix explained. "She'd whip it around and take down everyone with it. She had the circle thingie, you had a twelve pound bowling ball. Results were the same, though you were wearing sensible clothes, not leather."

"The Chakram," rhapsodically inserted Garrett. "I loved, loved, LOVED Xena. Something about a woman in Leather…" He stopped once he realized that everyone was staring at him. Including Winston. "So Simmons, traditionally, we have bad movie night. Tonight, we're watching a true classic. **_Attack of the Deadly Moussaka._** "

"Who let him pick out the movie?" Felix protested.

"Shut up and eat your moussaka," ordered Phil. "It's beginning to develop into an intelligent life form."

"Et tu, Phille?"

* * *

Dinner was scrumptious and Fitz' trifles were devoured and declared delicious. Phil and John carried most of the conversation with Felix added a dry quip or three when the boys got too rambunctious.

However, watching the movie proved problematic, as both men (and Winston) settled on Blake's bed. Garrett was closest to Blake, then came Phil who was holding a large container of gourmet popcorn and they politely had saved a spot for her on the bed. Now, she had noticed upon entering that Blake's bed was larger than the average king sized bed, but… her mind had thoroughly repressed the fact that it was big enough for four adults and one large dog.

"Simmons, this is bad movie night," Coulson reminded her "We usually sit on the bed as the flat screens is over there."

"Plus there's surround sound speakers… the bass really rumbles the bed," Garrett offered. "When the Imperial Cruisers show up, it's like they're in the room with you."

"Garrett! Do you **_even_** attempt to filter?" Blake asked.

"No," Garrett admitted. "Come on, get on the bed. It's nice, it's comfortable and we're not offering you dinner and a show. Well, we are but the show's not that rating."

There were loud protests about Garrett being a crude bore from the other men.

Garrett merrily continued, "Seriously, you know that's what she's thinking Blake."

"Don't remind me," Coulson added. "Blake?"

Silence, which caused Coulson to repeat his query.

"He's pretending to be unconscious," Garrett stated.

"I'm pretending that I'm dead," retorted an exasperated Felix. "Phil, you get Winston as John may forget to feed him."

"I won't!" protested Garrett. "Besides if you're talking you're not dead."

"You're not getting out this that easily," Coulson barked. "If you're dead, we have ways of bringing you back."

"Cybernetics!" Garrett offered.

"Alien technology!" retorted Phil Coulson.

Simmons realized that she was watching the verbal equivalent of a three way ping pong match and she giggled once she imagined Blake performing a backspin while Coulson corkspun and Garrett lobbed. Her Harem, having forgotten that she was in audience, turned to face her.

"I'll do mouth to mouth," she offered. "Sometimes the basics work best. Felix? Do you need me to do mouth to mouth?"

Really, it was worth stunning the boys. Even for a short time because naturally, John Garrett had to engage his wit.

"Sadly, kissing is not scheduled until after the Single Dates begin in three or so months," John explained. "Felix's schedule plainly does not permit kissing until then. Sorry, Blake, it's either me or Coulson giving you mouth to mouth."

Again, the mention of a schedule, so Simmons asked, "Do I get to see this schedule?"

"It's actually MS-Project," John continued. "There are time frames, goals…"

"Such as not killing John," Blake inserted in a very strangled tone. "Seriously, must you? Really, must you?"

John Garrett stopped in midstream, and then seriously stopped.

"I'm glad somebody keeping everyone scheduled. I want to make sure I spend time equally with you, so I get to know you," Jemma offered. "Can we watch the movie? It's sounds absolutely horrible. And move over, Phil, so I can sit on the bed with you."

Phil gave her a crooked smile, a silent 'Thank you', and Jemma nodded.

* * *

The movie was absolutely horrible, Jemma confessed, but the catcalling and critiquing from her Harem was quite funny. As the movie dragged on, she realized it was just her and Phil. Felix (and Winston) had fallen asleep almost fifteen minutes into the movie, and John followed him in a bit.

"It's tiring taking care of Felix," Phil fondly admitted as he glanced at his two comatose comrades. "Plus this movie brings new meaning to the words horrific, inane and mind-sucking. Want a ride home?"

"I'm tired," she admitted. "It's been a long day."

He insisted on washing and drying the trifle dishes before he drove her home. He walked her to her apartment and then stopped her from opening the door. "Tell Fitz I enjoyed the trifle," he told her. "The Drambuie was a dead giveaway that a Scot made it, not a Sheffield lass. And also, thank you for talking to Felix."

"I'll try dropping him an email," she offered.

She was rewarded with his crooked, bemused smile.

"So what's next of the schedule?" Jemma asked.

"Saturday afternoon. John and I will pick you up at three, if that's ok? John and Felix think that you need your own helmet, rather than grabbing one of our old ones when you ride double on the bikes. We'll take you to a shop and get you properly geared."

After she opened the door to her apartment, he turned to leave, but Simmons tapped him on his shoulder. He turned, curious, as she brushed her lips across his cheek.

"Don't tell John, I'm horrible with schedules. Especially if I don't have any input in them."


	20. Midnight Emails

It was only the quickest of brushes of her lips against his cheek, but Phil Coulson dimpled and blushed.

"I know, I'm ahead of schedule but I wanted to do that," she cheekily admitted.

"The schedule isn't for you, it's for us," Phil explained. "So we don't move too fast for you. You can do whatever you want, it's just a guide for us. You understand that both Felix and I came out of serious, long term relationships and John's… John."

Wisely, she didn't ask how he classified his current best friends with sexual benefits relationship with Felix and John. Jemma Simmons was beginning to comprehend that the trio hadn't really looked too deeply at their odd liaison beyond that it was working extremely well for them. There was trust, there was affection and there no doubt in Jemma's mind that was a great deal of frickle frackle….(Phil's earlier declarations to the contrary).

"Felix mentioned Nicolette," Jemma offered.

"Nicolette," Coulson growled his disgust, leaving no confusion over his dislike. "She took advantage of him, as Felix is very generous to his friends. He let me stay in his apartment as by the time I got out the hospital, my apartment lease had been broken and I had no place to live. He helped me financially get on my feet again after I died. You have no idea what being dead for an extended period does to your credit rating. I gave him all the paperwork and he straightened it all out. I managed to get an apartment in the same building and that's my story."

"Why does Garrett stay with him?" she asked.

"He lost his place after the Chitauri invasions. He bounces between my place and Felix's. He's usually with Felix until Felix loses his patience with him, and he kicks him out. But gently." Phil smiled at the oddity of their friendship. "Then he stays with me, until I kick him out and he shows up on Felix's doorstep as though nothing happened. He's fun, but exhausting."

"Noticed," she admitted with a slight laugh. "He's like a hyperactive two year old."

"If he's too John, let me know, please," he requested. His sincerity deeply amused her and she smiled again which deeply captivated him.

"I like it when you smile." He tilted his head and dimpled again. "I'm sorry about the bed. The screen's on the wall across from it, and … Felix got an extra-large bed because Winston sprawls when he naps. Winston is an hundred pound dog who knows that he's human, so he sleeps on a human bed. He's just too massive to be happy with a twin. Once we can safely move Felix, date night will NOT be taking place in his bedroom. We'll be able to prop him in his living room on the sectional."

"It's ok," Jemma assured him. "Though that movie was horrible."

"We were planning on a board game, but John saw the movie and thought it would be perfect." Phil grinned, showing his fond, exasperated amusement for John Garrett.

"I'll have nightmares tonight about being chased by manic Moussakas, deranged Dolmades and sentient Spanakopita."

"Rest assured that the Three Musketeers and the ever faithful Winston will come to your defense," Phil assured her. "I swear it on the oath of a Musketeer that I will not let m'lady come to harm from any degenerate Grecian delicacies."

He grinned again and Jemma realized that he was flirting. With her. So she blushed again which made her decide it was time for a strategic retreat.

"I better go," she finally offered.

"Saturday. 3PM. John and I are taking you shopping for gear. Hall Monitor Blake is insisting helmet and riding gear, which means full set of leathers plus gloves. He wasn't happy with your boots and neither was I, to be honest."

"Sounds expensive," she admitted. "Any idea how much it will run?"

"Blake's paying for it," Phil advised. "I told you he's generous and he was vexed with John for permitting you to use one of our spare helmets. The fit was good, but it could have been better."

"Are he and I… _friends_?" she asked. The very thought was absurd and painfully bittersweet because they had spoken perhaps three times total (once mainly due to the assistance of hard drugs) and she had hurdled a bowling ball at him, maiming him.

Phil didn't directly answer the question, she noticed, when he finally answered. "In the future, you may be the mother of either his children or his closest friends' children. Some advice? Give him the slightest bit of kindness, he'll treat you like you're made of gossamer silk and worship the very ground you tread upon. He's got a thing for smart ladies with hazel eyes. Just don't take advantage of it, please."

"Was Nicolette kind to him?"

"In the beginning," Phil said. "Then she took advantage of his generosity as he absolutely adored her. The final straw was when she cleaned out Blake's apartment when she left. Taking his coffee machine was a vindictive act of true cruelty."

Jemma didn't say anything and then Phil smiled a very blood thirsty grin, completely at odds with his mild demeanor, "John and I broke into her place and took his coffee machine back. Plus a few other items that were most assuredly not hers."

"I'm glad you did that." Her approving tone was quite fierce which caused Phil to laugh.

Then he offered her his good hand, "Good night."

"Good night," she whispered.

* * *

Phil Coulson drove for a few hours, deep in thought, and he finally decided it was time for bed. He parked Lola, wished her a good night (as Lola was a person, much like Winston, regardless of what Garrett said) and decided to skip the elevator and walk up the steps. He opened the apartment door, hung up his clothes neatly, stripped and crawled into bed.

Garrett turned towards him and spooned him, so Phil was the little spoon (naturally), and Garrett pulled the covers over him.

"What's bothering you so much that you decided to land at Casa del Blake?" Garrett asked. "Simmons?"

Phil nodded, and bit his lip.

"Missing Aud something fierce tonight, aren't you?"

Again with the head nod, as repressed emotions were threatening to break free.

"You just relax," Garrett whispered. "You close your eyes and I'll take really good care of you. I'll rub your shoulders first. They're just so tense and I'm massaging them now. Long, slow, deep massage because you're so tense."

Phil Coulson tightly closed his eyes while John told him exactly what he was doing, how and where he was touching Phil. It was slow, it was hypnotic as he drifted as he listened to John's voice as he described in explicit, dirty detail what exactly he was doing to Phil… and for a brief moment, Phil almost believed that he **_felt_** how John touched him…

"That's it, Phil," Garrett murmured. "You just relax…You need this…"

There was a budding warmth in his belly and… then he called out, "Aud", while he climaxed hard. A thankfully quiet John Garrett just held him and let him come down at his own pace.

"Let me clean you up and you can fall sleep," John requested after Phil was finally coherent enough to whisper his thanks.

"Let me reciprocate," Phil drowsily demanded even though he was quite content to fall asleep.

"Can't, I need to wake up quickly if Felix needs anything. He told me to sleep in my bed tonight. Plus you need to get up early today and take Winston for a nice, long run."

The anticipated protest wasn't voiced as Phil Coulson was quite utterly dead to the world. John Garrett just smiled and covered Phil.

* * *

Skye and Fitz had waited for her return, as they desired a full report. Jemma refused to slake their curiosity and instead she asked Skye for more information on Audrey and Nicolette.

"Sending it to your computer," Skye assured her. "How's my scary Boss doing?"

"He's actually quite nice, Skye," Jemma insisted. "Just introverted."

"She's scared of him," Fitz laughingly explained. "He give her that head tilt and the glower and she screams like she's a little girl."

"Take that back," Skye protested.

"AAAAHHH, It's AGENT BLAKE!" Fitz impersonated Skye rather well, in a high falsetto and American accent. "Quick! HIDE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!"

"I'm off to bed. Night," Jemma primly announced.

* * *

She changed from 'dating clothes' into her comfortable jimjams before she pulled out her tablet. There were already two files waiting for her – one marked Audrey, one marked Nicolette.

"Audrey," she decided.

Her bio displayed on her tablet, so Jemma scrolled. Accomplished celloist, issue with a stalker, Phil had been in charge of the case. The two of them had really connected, so they had started dating. There were pictures of the two of them, with Phil looking happy. Videos of a radiant Audrey playing her cello with various reviews from the local papers. Audrey was … very pretty, but there was an inherent glee that came through even the still photos.

Nicollete's file was similar. Brief bio. No videos, but pictures. She seemed… sharp…and edgy… to Jemma.

Jemma had flipped through several pictures when she stopped and returned to the first picture as there was a nagging sensation that bothered her. The infamous Nicollete was standing next to a smiling man with black hair, heavy lidded eyes…. blue eyes… in front of a brand new Mustang convertible.

Felix? Felix Blake?

_But the grand prize is a really sweet car. Better than what I gave Nicolette. I only got her a Mustang._

More pictures, Blake was laughing… smiling… and the final picture was the two of them. Blake widely grinning and he was proudly displaying Nicolette's left hand to the camera.

Fucking huge rock on her ring finger. Huge, blinding ring.

_Felix is very generous._

They had been engaged, Jemma realized. She glanced at the date on the photo, realized it was a few months before the fall of New York.

She closed the file and there was another file that Skye had found for her. There was a note attached to it.

**_Graphic. May not want to open._ **

Did that stop Jemma Simmons, not one bit.

No video. John Garrett's voice. Shaky. Upset. "Phil's down as that Loki bastard stabbed him. I'm getting a hit on Felix's phone and it's under what used to be a building. Phones are down due to the battle. I've got to look for Felix because if his phone's intact…. Might mean he's still alive."

Broken bits of commentary. John's increasingly frantic tone intermingled with a great deal of creative cursing and comments about how he had to find Blake…. Something about how he couldn't lose another team?

"I heard him. He's screaming. He sounds fucking terrified. Least I've got the bystanders organized, they're helping me now, pulling people out of the wreckage. I'm in the bowels of the building now, and it's so fucking unstable that I think it might collapse on me. God, it's John Garrett, I know we haven't talked in years, but do you think you could make it quick?"

More broken commentary. Obscene comments and the sounds of materials being carefully and deliberately moved.

"Blake stopped screaming. I hope it means he's unconscious."

More cursing, a stomach churning moment when she heard the building shift and Garrett cursed.

"Felix? Talk to me, for the love of God, talk to me, please. SHIELD HQ, this is Agent Garrett, I've found Agent Blake. He's got multiple long bone fractures and we need extrication. Come on, Felix, talk to me, man. Eyes on me, Blake."

She closed the file as there was much more to listen to, and she couldn't bear it. Instead, she opened her email. Jemma had promised that she'd email Felix, so she did.

_Felix,_

_I'm so glad we finally got the chance to talk tonight. I understand that I'm to be properly outfitted on Saturday but I insist… insist…. on paying for it._

_Jemma_

She sent the email and she realized that she was too wired to sleep.

There was a pop and a new email flag appeared. She clicked on it, thinking it was probably spam for a porn dating site when she recognized the email address. It was probably safe to open as she doubled Felix Blake would send her a Trojan.

* * *

 

**_Simmons_ **

**_It's 2:32 AM, why are you awake and sending emails? Shouldn't you be sleeping? Dreaming pleasant dreams? As for the gear, it's expensive and I don't want you to skimp. Good safety gear may prevent you from getting seriously hurt._ **

**_Felix_**

* * *

 

_Felix,_

_I had nightmares of being chased by Sentient Spanakopita. And what about you? It's 2:38 AM._

_ALSO, I'm paying for the gear. I'm an independent girl who pays her own way. You're being far too generous.  
_

_Jemma_

* * *

 

**_Jemma –_ **

**_Very noisy roommate who besides being inconsiderate has absolutely shitty taste in movies. He and Phil are having a private conversation and are being very loud. I'm ignoring it because Phil needed to vent. Have you tried warm milk?_ **

**_FB_ **

**_PS – You can't win about the gear as Phil agreed with me. Too bad. Feel free to blink your eyes at him, pout, quiver your lip and stamp your foot. It won't work. He has a heart of stone. Safety first, Simmons. I have an obsessive focus on safety.  
_ **

**_PS2 – Fitz agreed with me on this also._ **

**_PS3 – Absolutely no way in hell you can win. Just give up now. Keep your pride._**

* * *

 

_F –_

_Warm Milk – Bluck._

_Seriously you and Phil ganging up on me! What about John?_

_And you talk to FITZ?_

_J_

* * *

 

**_Jemma_ **

**_John Garrett is a prime example of why you should wear your helmet at all times. Do you want to end up like him?_ **

**_Do you?_ **

**_Now, do you?_ **

**_Also ask John about the angry bee on the Maine Turnpike._ **

**_Needed to get your size from Fitz. He even took a scan of your head so we have a rough idea on what size helmet. And you thought he was trying out a thermonuclear body scanner. WRONG! Also, needed to reassure Fitz that we'd behave._ **

**_He has threatened us._ **

**_F_ **

**_PS – A protective Fitz is very scary._ **

**_PS2 - Even scarier than a pissed off Phil Coulson which could give the Hulk some lessons in anger issues._ **

**_PS3 - Shouldn't you stop emailing me and try to get some sleep? Some of the able bodied need to get to work today._ **

**_PS4 - Fitz has agreed with your need for proper protective gear, so go argue with him._ **

**_PS5 – Have you tried using a mantram to get you to sleep?_ **

**_Turn off your computer. Lie on your back, get comfortable. Close your eyes, clear your mind, inhale and exhale slowly and then mentally repeat the first two lines of the Periodical Table. H, He, Li, B, C, N, O, F, Ne. Relax completely and permit yourself to float away._ **

**_I usually use Beatle lyrics._ **

**_Life is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see…._ **

* * *

Jemma Simmons turned off her computer and placed it on the floor. She closed her eyes and stretched out on the bed. Running through a barely remembered yoga class from years previous, she tensed and then relaxed her muscles, all the while mentally chanting the Periodical Table.

**_This is silly!_ **

**_Sweep your mind,_** Felix Blake mentally instructed her.

 ** _SWEEPING!_** She quipped as she energetically swept her mind clear of anything and everything that was distracting her. Then Jemma began mentally murmuring the Periodical Table.

H, He, Li, B, C, N, O, F, Ne…..

She didn't make it to Li for a third time before she was deeply asleep.


	21. Friday night emails

Friday night

* * *

**_To: Jemma Simmons  
From: Felix X. Blake_ **

**_J –_ **

**_It appears that we are having a philosophical difference over your gear._ **

**_Phil sees the glass half full. I see the glass half empty with a strong possibility of spillage plus my immediate electrocution if you're nearby. You see the glass completely full, half in the liquid state and half in the vapor state._ **

**_Regardless of our differences, you're still not buying your own gear. Stamp your feet, quiver your lip, bowl me over again (Once second thought, let's not and say you did because I am absolutely trucking stir crazy right now). Phil and I have worn John down and he agreed that Phil, as the single solitary adult of the two of them, is selecting what you need. Pretty much all you do is show up, try it on and decide if you want your helmet in hot pink. (Please, no, as it will embarrass Winston to no end and you won't want that, do you?)._ **

**_FXB_ **

**_PS Thank Fitz for the Hairst Bree. Garrett can't cook so it was nice to get a home cooked meal._ **

* * *

_To: Felix Blake  
From: Jemma Simmons_

_F –_

_You're positively verbose on email._

_And no, I would never, ever embarrass Winston. He is an utter love, unlike his owner, who seems to be a bit of a curmudgeon until you start chatting with him._

_J_

_PS Also, I did the Hairst Bree. Not Fitz._

* * *

**_To: Jemma Simmons  
From: Felix X. Blake_ **

**_J_ **

**_Drug-induced chattiness. Thank dog for autocorrect. Though it insists on cleaning up my language. Trucking indeed. Truck truck truck is a poor imitation for the true word that I utilized as it can be a verb, noun, adjective and adverb._ **

**_F_ **

**_PS I don't believe in Santa, the Easter Bunny or your claims at being able to cook. Harist Bree is Scottish, Glaswegian I believe, which is from where Fitz hails, though I'll give you credit for dicing up the vegetables so evenly that even my OCD couldn't be offended. Though I'm not sure how you could do that when you left the apartment at eleven and it was on my doorstep on 6am._ **

**_However I'm feeling quite magnanimous (again due to this really intense sit…Truck you autocorrect… drugs) so I'll give you credit. [Though those vegetables looked as though they were laser cut, so once again – FITZ?)_ **

**_Seriously how the shell did I get the Disneyfied version of autocorrect on my dictation software? It can handle Glaswegian but not truck, shell or sit. Dog help me. I bet Garrett played with the trucking settings._ **

**_Once I'm mobile, I'm kicking his glass from here to shell._ **

**_PS 2 I am a curmudgeon. Damn proud of it, as I am Double Black belt in curmudgeonly comments._ **

* * *

_To: Felix Blake  
From: Jemma Simmons_

_My dearest F of the impressive though rather naughty vocabulary;_

_I picked out the recipe. Doesn't that count?_

_J_

* * *

**_To: Jemma Simmons  
From: Felix X. Blake_ **

**_Dear Posh Spice;_ **

**_NO_ **

**_F_ **

* * *

_To: Felix Blake  
From: Jemma Simmons_

_Dear cranky Felix;_

_Just to prove I can cook, I'll make you a cake,_

_J_

_PS What is it with your need to nickname me?_

* * *

**_To: Jemma Simmons  
From: Felix X. Blake_ **

**_Dear Barefoot BioChemist_ ** _._

**_Regarding your kind offer to make me a cake._ **

**_SHELL NO! I heard about the incident in the Academy when you felt homesick and wanted to make Gateau over a Bunsen burner. Four alarm fire, mandatory evacuation and something about Anne Weaver, a helicopter and a scantily clad fireman with a big hose and her requiring extensive mouth to mouth after a near death experience. She seemed to have a religious experience as she was screaming, "Oh my Dog!" loudly and repeatedly._ **

**_F_ **

**_PS Who as a good Catholic boy refuses to even consider any other explanation for Anne Weaver's screams of Hallelujah other than her delight at being rescued?_ **

**_By a scantily clad firefighter._ **

**_Who she later married._ **

**_On an island in Bermuda._ **

**_PS2 I nickname because I can._ **

**_CC: Phil Coulson, John Garrett_ **

* * *

_To: Felix Blake  
From: Jemma Simmons_

_I deny all knowledge or any involvement with that supposed incident._

_Jemma Elizabeth Simmons, PhD._

_PS I find it difficult to believe that you're a good Catholic boy._

_PS2 Try using my name. It's not that hard, Felix._

_CC: Phil Coulson, John Garrett_

* * *

**_To: Ms. Jemma Elizabeth Simmons, MA, MS, MS, PhD, PhD  
From: Felix X. Blake_ **

**_Dear Ms. Jemma Elizabeth Simmons, MA, MS, MS, PhD, PhD_ **

**_You're right. Using your name wasn't that hard. I'll try to remember it in the future, Ms. Jemma Elizabeth Simmons, MA, MS, MS, PhD, PhD._ **

**_As to your implausible proclamation of your supposed innocence in the destruction of the Academy Lab area, Ms. Jemma Elizabeth Simmons, MA, MS, MS, PhD, PhD._ **

**_Got pictures._ **

**_Got video._ **

**_Got all the supporting depositions and the copies of the bills to replace the lab._ **

**_Needless to say, even John Garrett's impressed as he was a bit of pyro early on in his career. Phil, on the other hand, is refusing to let Ms. Jemma Elizabeth Simmons, MA, MS, MS, PhD, PhD so much as breathe on Lola._ **

**_I was most assuredly was highly impressed! John_ **

**_CC: Phil Coulson, John Garrett_ **

* * *

_To: Felix Blake  
From: Jemma Simmons_

_Are you investigating me?_

_J_

_PS Please feel free to go back to nicknaming me. You utilizing my full name makes me feel like I'm being chastised by my father._

_PS2 No rude comment about your advance age was intended in the previous PS._

_CC: Phil Coulson, John Garrett_

* * *

**_To: Jemma Simmons  
From: Felix X. Blake_ **

**_Dear Mrs. Emma Peel_ ** _._

**_Darn straight I have investigated you and Fitz. I've previously flagged my background so I was informed that my new assistant, she of the one word fictitious name, of the inability to make coffee, has pulled all non-confidential files on me, so you could peruse at your convenience. I also discovered that both Garrett and Coulson's files have been accessed. Therefore it was only fair that I did the same, as I have much better resources._ **

**_I'm warning you, Mary Sue Pootz, if you attempt to view my financial records or my credit report, I will make your life an absolutely trucking living shell._ **

**_Dog help you if you actually succeed._ **

**_Is that understood? John Garrett will provide UnDisneyfied Translation if required._ **

**_Felix X. Blake_ **

**_I'd be worried, Blue Skies – John Garrett_ **

**_PS That PS regarding no rude comment meant about my supposed advanced state of decrepitude was rather mean._ **

**_PS2 Perhaps I shouldn't call you Mrs. Peel, as I remember she wore a leather catsuit. You dress more like Jessica Fletcher._ **

**_CC: MarySue_Pootz_ **

**_CC: Phil Coulson, John Garrett_ **

* * *

_To: Felix Blake  
From: Skye_

_Dear Agent Blake;_

_I'm sure you could understand that I was worried for Jemma and wanted to reassure her what a fine group of upstanding gentlemen you all are._

_I promise you that I won't attempt to access your financial records, however truth demands me admit that I am absolutely amazed at your credit score. As you may remember it is part of your yearly evaluation._

_Do you think if I beg, you might be able to help me with my score?_

_Please?_

_Skye_

_PS I'll learn how to make the best cup of coffee ever if you could help me with my credit score._

_CC: Jemma Simmons, Phil Coulson, John Garrett_

* * *

**_To: Skye_noKnownLastName  
From: John Garrett_ **

**_Hey Blue Skies;_ **

**_Begging doesn't work with our Felix. Nor does blatant attempts at flattery because the bullshit detector alarm went off from your email. It filled the apartment with the most noxious odors and we were required to open all the windows._ **

**_Felix is the most pragmatic of souls. Begging and flattery does not work. Bribery does._ **

**_For example, French Macarons. In particular; Mocha, Nutella, Vanilla, White Chocolate and Strawberry from a small shop on 59th Street between Madison and Park Avenues._ **

**_I'm partial to Crème Brulee and Pistachio. Understand that there is a handler's charge for managing Felix Blake that I will charge. No credit. Payment in advance, especially with your credit score._ **

**_John Garrett_ **

**_CC: Jemma Simmons, Felix Blake, Phil Coulson_ **

* * *

**_To: MarySue Pootz  
From: Felix X. Blake_ **

**_Good Dog Mary Sue._ **

**_I've seen your credit score. I didn't even realize that scores came that low._ **

**_I'm a trucking field officer, not a miracle worker._ **

**_Bring everything to my apartment this Sunday at 3:00 PM. I'll see what I can salvage. You may want to change your name again, it might be easier to create a new persona than to deal with the Financial Fiasco you call your life._ **

**_CC: Jemma Simmons, John Garrett, Phil Coulson_ **

* * *

_To: Felix Blake  
From: Skye_

_Thank you Felix!_ _:) :) :) :)  
_

_I'll bring you coffee and French Macarons. Promise!_

_Skye_

_CC: Jemma Simmons, John Garrett, Phil Coulson_

* * *

**_To: MarySue Pootz  
From: Felix X. Blake_ **

**_Mary Sue;_ **

**_Regardless of your role in these shenanigans, I'm still, and always will, remain Agent Blake to you._ **

**_FXB_ **

**_CC: Jemma Simmons, John Garrett, Phil Coulson_ **

* * *

_To: Felix Blake  
From: Jemma Simmons_

_Dearest Agent Blake;_

_I'll Jessica Fletcher you._

_Jemma, not Jessica._

_CC: Skye, John Garrett, Phil Coulson_

* * *

**_To: Felix Blake  
From: John Garrett_ **

**_We want pictures! Lots of pictures! DETAILS!_ **

**_John_ **

**_CC: Phil Coulson_ **

* * *

**_To: John Garrett, Phil Coulson  
From: Felix X. Blake_ **

**_John, Phil_ **

**_Help?_ **

**_Felix_ **

* * *

**_To: Felix X. Blake  
From: Phil Coulson_ **

**_Felix;_ **

**_Love you like a brother, but you stirred the hornet's nest. Though I always though Jessica Fletcher's most attractive feature was her brilliant deductive mind._ **

**_In other words, you're on your own, bro._ **

**_Phil_ **

**_PS - Nobody put in a request for the French Macarons I liked? That's rude. Really rude._ **

**_CC: John Garrett._ **

* * *

_To: Skye, Fitz  
From: Jemma Simmons_

_Skye, Fitz;_

_I HAVE A FASHION EMERGENCY! THIS IS A CODE BAD GIRL SHENNANIGANS!_

_Jemma_

* * *

_To: Jemma_   
_From: Fitz_

_Jemma,_

_What happened, you just looked at your wardrobe?_

_Love;_

_Fitz_

_CC: Skye_

* * *

_To: Skye, Fitz  
From: Jemma Simmons_

_Fitz;_

_So spoke the man who is clad in plaid._

_NO! Felix says I dress like Angela LANSBURY!_

_Jemma_

_CC: Skye_

* * *

_To: Simmons  
From: Fitz_

_Jemma;_

_Last time I looked, you do._

_F_

_CC: Skye_

* * *

_To: Felix Blake  
From: Jemma Simmons_

_F –_

_With much love and respect; Fuck you. Fuck you until the cows come home. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you._

_Jemma_

* * *

**_To: Jemma Simmons  
From: Felix X. Blake_ **

**_Dear Dr. Simmons,_ **

**_Regarding your generous offer of trucking me until the cows come home?_ **

**_I beg your pardon?_ **

**_I'm currently immobilized with extremely limited hip movement due to you, remember? I also don't do restraints? I think we discussed this in detail when you expressed your desire to watch me scream like a little girl when the boys rode me like their witch?_ **

**_Very concernedly yours;_ **

**_Felix X. Blake_ **

**_(Who is looking to see if the night night gun is handy just in case you break into my apartment or worse yet, John lets you in as he's a sick custard like that.)_ **

* * *

_To: Felix Blake  
From: Jemma Simmons_

_OMIGOD! WRONG EMAIL! I'M SO SORRY!_

_THAT WAS MEANT FOR FITZ! NOT YOU!_

_JEMMA_

* * *

**_To: Jemma Simmons  
From: Felix X. Blake_ **

**_Jemma_ **

**_Ok – Your most generous offer of trucking me until the cows collapsed in physical exhaustion just scared me. Let me instead, offer my deepest sympathies to Leopold Fitz, who is apparently doomed to death by brewing. Trucking._ **

**_I really need to fix my trucking audio transcription as this sit is beginning to kiss me off. Either that or I need to get a keyboard for my tablet._ **

**_Felix_ **

* * *

_To: Felix Blake  
From: Jemma Simmons_

_Felix_

_I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! I'm SO SORRY!_

_Jemma_

* * *

**_To: Jemma Simmons  
From: Felix X. Blake_ **

**_Jemma;_ **

**_No worries._ **

**_Even without my warped obsessions with arrays and configurations, I'm beginning to detect a pattern with you. At this rate, soon I'm be amused rather than deeply trucking traumatized by your outbursts._ **

**_Must let my therapist know; he'll be proud that I'm making progress._ **

**_Felix_ **

* * *

_To: Felix Blake  
From: Jemma Simmons_

_F –_

_How can I properly express my regret? Coffee? French Macarons?_

_Not dressing like Jessica Fletcher?_

_Meeting your therapist so he can understand who has traumatized you so badly?_

_Jemma_

* * *

**_To: Jemma Simmons  
From: Felix X. Blake_ **

**_Jemma of the entertaining eruptions;_ **

**_Keep outbursting away; however, Winston could really do with a proper run in the park, as he's utterly bored. So between him and John, I have two rambunctious two years old to deal with._ **

**_Also regarding the French Macarons; tell Skye to bring some Chocolate Caramel and Expresso for Phil please._ **

**_He's whining that he was ignored when she was taking orders._ **

_**Also I'd like if you could please show up when my so-called Assistant arrives with her finances. Wear whatever you want.** _

_**As for meeting Timmy, I'm not sure you're up to that yet. He's a force of nature, but he's quite utterly British, so you'd two would hit it off and talk about weird British things, like British Bacon as apparently American Bacon is a high crime against humanity?** _

**_F_ **

* * *

_To: Fitz  
From: Jemma Simmons_

_Fitz_

_I just sent this email to Felix by mistake…. This should have gone to you._

_F –_

_With much love and respect; Fuck you. Fuck you until the cows come home. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you._

_Jemma_

_CC: Skye_

* * *

_To: Jemma  
From: Fitz_

_Dearest;_

_We've had this discussion several times. You're simply not my type._

_Love;_

_Fitzie_

_PS Did you kill Felix again?_

_CC: Skye_

* * *

_To: Simmons, Fitz  
From: Skye_

_Fitzie & Simmons;_

_I think I need to order a defib unit for Agent Blake's personal use. Reminding myself to order it on Monday when I'm in the office._

_Skye_

* * *

_To: Skye, Fitz  
From: Jemma Simmons_

_Fitz & Skye;_

_Forget the bloody Defib unit._

_I NEED HELP! I DON'T WANT TO DRESS LIKE ANGELA LANSBURY! I want to be sexy and show cleavage!_

_Help!_

_Jemma_

* * *

_To: Skye_   
_From: Fitz_

_Skye;_

_Regarding Jemma's urge to be sexy, this is far beyond my scope as BFF. I don't think she could pull off sexy without injuring someone. We nearly permanently maimed one eligible bachelor on the unspeakable horror known as Bowling Nite, I fear to imagine what world wide devastation Sexy Simmons might unleash._

_Help?_

_Fitz_

* * *

_To: Fitz  
From: Skye_

_Leave it to me. I'll handle it._

_Skye_

* * *

_To: Skye  
From: Fitz _

_Skye;_

_If you can pull this off, Anne Sullivan has nothing on you._

_Fitz_

* * *

_To: Jemma  
From: Skye _

_Jemma;_

_I'll meet you and Fitz tomorrow at ten. We'll go shopping!_

_Skye_

_CC: Fitz_

* * *

_To: Fitz  
From: Skye _

_Skye;_

_WTF? How am I involved with this?_

_Fitz_

* * *

_To: Fitz  
From: Skye _

_Fitz:_

_We need a male's opinion on her clothes._

* * *

_To: Skye  
From: Fitz _

_Skye;_

_Seriously. No._

_Fitz_

* * *

_To: Fitz  
From: Skye _

_Fitz;_

_I could ask Jasper._

_Skye_

* * *

_To: Skye  
From: Fitz _

_Skye:_

_You're evil. Evil. EVIL. I pity Felix for having to work with you. I'll be there, with swatches for colors that she looks good in._

_Fitz_

* * *

_To: Skye  
From: Fitz _

_Fitz;_

_That's Agent Blake to you._

_Skye_

* * *

_To: Skye  
From: Fitz _

_Skye;_

_Not to me, he and I are quite chummy. He also has deliciously blue eyes and a nice tight bum you could bounce a pence off of. So does Coulson._

_Fitz_

* * *

_To: Fitz  
From: Skye _

_Fitz;_

_Hate you. I'm now gonna stare at his baby blues each and every time I see him. So Blake and Coulson have nice butts. What about Garrett?_

_Skye_

PS He lets you call him FELIX?!

* * *

_To: Skye  
From: Fitz _

_Skye;_

_Least you're not staring at his pens. Bloody Shell, looks like I got hit with the Disneyficiation Virus also._

_Garrett's got big hands and broad shoulders. Plus he's really funny._

_Fitz_

PS He's quasi dating my BFF, so he figured "Agent Blake" would cause some problems in our off hours.

_PS2 – in other words, he likes me. What can I say but I'm adorable?_

* * *

_To: Fitz  
From: Skye _

_Fitz;_

_It's a setting. I'll send you instructions on how to fix it. Please stop telling me how hot Jemma's Harem is, else I'll start asking for her leftovers._

_Skye_

* * *

_To: Skye  
From: Fitz _

_S –_

_Send it to your boss. It might get you some points after you set his office ablaze. Really, you never thought to put water into the coffee machine before you turned it on?_

_Did you even bother to grind the coffee beans?_

_F_

_PS – I'd take her leftovers in a heartbeat, but I think they're predominately hetro. Shame._

* * *

_To: Fitz  
From: Skye _

_F_

_What is this grinding of coffee beans of which you speak? The concept is not one of which I am aware._

_S_

* * *

_To: Skye  
From: Fitz _

_Dearest Yoda;_

_You're trucking kidding me, aren't you?_

_ObiWan Fitz_

* * *

_To: Agent Blake  
From: Skye _

_Dear Agent Blake;_

_To fix the autocorrect of certain words to Disney-level, please go into your SHIELD INBOX on your desktop. Click on it. Click on Settings. Click on the 3rd Tab entitled " HOOVER", half way down on the right under AUTOCORRECT – unclick NICK FURY. You should now be able to curse to your heart's content._

_Skye_

* * *

**_To: MarySue Pootz  
From: Felix X. Blake_ **

**_Dear Skye;_ **

**_Thank you! It fucking worked! I'll get your credit score up to 350 by Sunday night._ **

**_FXB_ **

* * *

_To: Agent Blake  
From: Skye_

_Dear Agent Blake;_

_I think it's worth 450 at least._

* * *

**_To: MarySue Pootz  
From: Felix X. Blake_ **

**_Dear Skye;_ **

**_400\. Final deal._ **

**_FXB_ **

* * *

_To: Agent Blake  
From: Skye_

_Dear Agent Blake;_

_Ok, Boss. 400 it is._

_Skye_

* * *

_To: Skye_   
_From: Simmons_

_Thank you for your help. I've never really had a 'girlfriend' before. This dating scene is completely foreign to me. Can you tell?_

_JS_

* * *

_To: Simmons_   
_From: Skye_

_Thank you. I didn't have a lot of friends growing up and I like helping you. As for dating, I'm used to movie theaters and the back of my van. It's different when they're men. A little more patience, better thread count and real cuisine._

_Skye_

_You seem to be hitting it off with Agent Blake. Can you make some suggestions so he will stop obviously hating me? I'm really trying to be a good assistant. Fury really wants Blake to have a reliable assistant, and I've been told this is a make or break assignment for me._

* * *

_To: Skye  
From: Simmons _

_Sunday morning, come over for breakfast and I'll teach you how to make coffee._

_Other than that, he's prickly as a porcupine, so relax. When you're nervous around him, he gets stressed out and anxious. He can be quite sweet when he's stoned.  
_

* * *

_To: Simmons_   
_From: Skye_

_ARE YOU SUGGESTING THAT I DRUG MY BOSS?!_


	22. Gelato and Leather

Saturday morning.

"Cleavage," Skye informed a serious Jemma Simmons. "Is a girl's best weapon. Because you will distract the boys with your womanly curves and then you will use your brain to utterly destroy them."

"Simmons has already maimed one of the boys, can we use another term?" Fitz requested. He was busy being Jemma Simmons' Walking Clothes Rack while Skye merrily pillaged the sales rack at H&M. "And no, no, no. I will not permit her to wear a leopard tube top in our apartment, let alone outside."

"Why?" Jemma asked.

"Raise your arms and you could give your boys a free show," reminded Fitz. "Straps are not optional. No leather bustiers, and no cropped tops, especially with PEACHY written across your…."

"FITZ!" Shrieked Jemma.

"You're dealing with **_three_** **_men_** , Simmons. Three of them at the same time, you wear something like that bustier and I predict one of two things. That they'll either get you drunk on really good champagne or excellent liquor and then they will flirt outrageously with you. And that will end up…"

"FITZ," hissed Skye and Simmons.

"With Felix back in traction and Phil and John in Cardiac Care."

Skye's expressive face fell as she protested, "Wait, you call **_all of them_** by their first names?"

Meanwhile, Jemma Simmons appeared horrified at being classified as a Black Widow or in her case the Merry Maimer of Mature, Marriageable Men. "Fitz!"

"Stiches! Splints! Surgery! Scarring! From a night of bowling, Simmons. Phil's still splinted and Felix is still flat on his back in bed." Fitz began before Skye interrupted.

"Trust Leo to notice that," added a snarky Skye who was quite perturbed that she was not permitted to call any of Jemma's harem by their first name.

"Can you just imagine that sheer amount of devastation that Sexy Simmons would inflict on them? It would be like an amorous Godzilla unleashed on Tokyo. They're older, their bones are brittle and they don't bounce particularly well as we witnessed firsthand. And yes, I've noticed that Felix is flat on his back because I visited him and brought him coffee."

"You visited Agent Blake?" Skye protested. "He let you visit?"

"I just showed up with coffee and sandwiches. I also brought Winston a squeaky toy."

"Are you trying to date him?" Skye asked which caused the little Scottish bear to glare at her.

"NO! I'm trying to get to know the three men that Jemma is… involved with," protested Fitz. "I want to approve of whomever she selects."

Jemma Simmons hugged her best friend, ignoring the fact that he was holding seventeen tops and three pairs of cute jeans.

"Now remember, whatever you pick, you'll have to wear it when you shopping for gear, so nothing too girly."

"Not too Jessica Fletcher, not too girly. Should I grab a tee and a pair of jeans?" Jemma asked.

"Probably, and don't forget to grab that bandage sweater that we saw in that one shop window. Grab it for later on," Fitz decided.

* * *

Phil and John showed up promptly at her door. Jemma gave Fitz a quick kiss goodbye and then headed toward the door.

"I won't wait up!" Fitz catcalled.

The two men pretended not to hear but they escorted her to John's car.

"Just to warn you, our slightly obsessive friend has given me a list," Phil explained to Jemma even as he opened the door for her. "I think he's already picked out your jacket."

Jemma smiled and shook her head.

"No protestations?" John asked.

"Not when he's described as **_our_** friend," she stated with great sincerity. The two gentlemen smiled their approval.

"The person who owns the shop is a former coworker," Phil explained once they arrived at the shop. "He worked in the tech department."

"The stuff he could do! Fitz would love a chance to chat with him," John inserted from the driver's seat.

There were quite a few leather clad bikers at the shop so Jemma felt odd and out of place, but the two men escorted/force marched her to the salesroom.

"I've been waiting for you three," said a deep voice from the back room. "Come on back, I've got the gear set up. I've got company though."

"Thanks, Skull!" John answered as he walked towards the back room.

"Skull?" whispered Jemma Simmons.

"John 'Skull' Skulimowski," Phil explained.

Skull turned out to be a mild-mannered looking man with greying hair and sharp eyes. "Dr. Simmons? I presume?"

At the mention of her name, the other person in the room turned to face her. He was older, close cropped hair, thick mustache and he had a cigar in his mouth. For some reason, he seemed concerned, looked her up, looked her down, counted her teeth, saw how Phil and John reacted with her and then relaxed. Jemma noticed how both John and Phil straightened …. Instinctively. They probably weren't even aware of how they stood straighter, and how they stood just so, almost at attention, but she noticed.

She nervously smiled at him, and he took the cigar out of his mouth.

"I'm Tim," he informed her as he offered her his hand, fortunately sans cigar. His British accent was thick and she smiled. "These hooligans treating you well? If not, let me know, Dr. Simmons."

"They're being perfect gentlemen, Tim. Please also call me Jemma. Are you… Lancashire?"

Tim smiled and nodded.

"Getting gear are you?" he asked. "Much riding experience?"

"Very little, so my friend is insisting that I get proper gear before he'll let me ride double again."

"Smart man takes precautions and shouldn't be ashamed of his concern. A jacket and helmet with airbags is really just basic safety safeguards. One should use the latest safety technology to prevent injury." Tim easily agreed. "Tell Felix I said that, wontcha Phil? Maybe he'll stop wearing just leather and armor then."

A dawning realization of who Tim was in relationship to her odd little harem settled upon her. **_Tim was Felix's therapist._**

"Yes, sir!" Phil snapped. Really, Jemma heard Phil's heels click when he snapped to attention.

Jemma turned to face Tim who gave her a secretive wink. "We'll talk later, Jemma. I'm sure of it. Pleasure."

"I believe we're supposed to compare British bacon verses American bacon?" She asked. "After all, it is a ..."

"High crime against humanity," they exclaimed together before sharing a mutual laugh about those crazy Americans.

Then he leaned towards her and requested, "Call me if you have any questions about… bacon?" He slipped her a piece of paper and gave her a warm smile. "Call me anytime. Just between the two of us, I came here to meet you because he'll take forever before he introduces us. Don't worry, I'll tell him that I met you."

Tim left her after saying his goodbyes and a curious Jemma permitted herself a quick glance at the scrap of paper while he spoke with Phil and John.

A neatly scripted 'Timmy' and a phone number. Plus a scrawled, " _You_ _do_ _know that he smiles when he talks about you?_ "

And a delighted Jemma Simmons grinned.

* * *

'Skull' presented her with a selection of gear. Jemma felt a warm fuzzy feeling as the former agent reminded her a great deal of Fitz especially when he gushed poetically over the technology he had incorporated into her gear.

"The jacket is pretty much a choice between this," he explained as he pointed at one black leather jacket. "And this." He said, pointing at the very same jacket.

"It's absolutely cutting edge," Skull continued. "See?"

He took a sharp knife and attempted to rip it. "Tear proof, bullet proof…"

"We'll take your word for it," Phil assured Skull.

"Any reason the bike destabilizes, the alarm sensors go off. If God forbid you fall off the bike, the sensors automatically inflate the airbags. This is the latest technology as it has a slim silhouette as we don't want a pretty girl like you looking like Johnny the Hulk over there."

"HEY!" protested Garrett.

"Try it on," Skull insisted. "It's got vents so it will be cool in the summer but still warm in the winter. Based on the sizing Felix gave me, it should fit you well enough so you can throw a sweatshirt on underneath it."

Jemma put it on and Skull checked the sizing, the length, the sleeves, etc.

"You were pretty sure this was a go," Phil laughed. "You've got it patched already?"

"Patched?" Jemma asked.

"You've got a subdued Union Jack patch on your back with a matching patch on your left shoulder," Phil explained. "Right say British Biker."

She turned to look at the patches and she smiled.

"Thank you John," she said.

A pleased John Garrett rocked on his toes. "Owe me five," he informed a disgusted Phil who handed over the bill to John. "How'd you guess?"

"Had to be the person that put the Winston patch on Felix's jacket. It's the only patch he has on it, but you have several patches," Jemma teased. "Phil's jacket is pretty worn but he doesn't have any patches on it."

She spent the next hour trying on gear, plus she had to pose for Felix as Phil sent him photos. Sometimes it resulted in suggestions from the studio audience aka Blake and there had been a long fifteen minute conversation about boots between Phil, Skull and Blake.

"Oh, hell **_no_** ," Phil announced when she managed to pour herself into a pair of leather pants which did absolutely wonderful things to her bum and showed off her curves. "I'm not sending this shot to Felix."

"Come on," John protested as he took out his cell phone to snap a shot. "The poor man is bedbound. This picture will keep him warm at night."

"I **_like_** it," Skull offered. "Those pants fit like a second skin. You can't even tell that there's armor and airbags. I do really good work."

"Turn, and smile for the poor guy," John requested so she did. She tried for a coquettish grin with a saucy stance and an approving John leered at her. He was too funny so she laughed, which probably spoiled the sex kitten pose she was attempting. And since she was practicing being flirtatious, and she had buzzed Phil and Felix on the cheek, she kissed John once on his cheek which earned her a delighted growl from Garrett.

Phil shook his head and protested, "Simmons, please do not feed the animals and please, do not encourage Garrett. And no, on those pants. They're a fatality just waiting to happen. Felix agrees with me. A big HELL No on those pants. Let's try another size or something. Maybe chaps?"

"Go talk to your cardiologist, maybe he'll give you clearance, Phil," John offered.

Coulson was talking to Felix, so there was no response. Jemma then walked over to Coulson, grabbed his phone and asked in her very best sultry voice (which was horribly, horribly lame), "I don't think Jessica Fletcher would wear these pants, do you?"

Blake said nothing while John Garrett suggested that Jessica **_Rabbit_** would most assuredly wear those pants.

Jemma waited a minute, and then repeated herself. A little louder just in case Felix hadn't heard her.

"Uhmm…. I was…. Teasing…." Blake finally managed to say after a long, profound silence. "You… know… that…. Right…?"

"Felix," Jemma protested.

"Trying… to be funny… I didn't…. can I speak… with Phil?" Another profound silence and then a soft, almost desperate, "Please?"

"Felix, I'm just teasing you back," whispered Jemma.

"Oh." He attempted a hearty laugh that nearly broke her heart. "I knew that. I think Jessica Fletcher would wear those pants and rock a cardigan with it. You know, probably one with flowers, and she'd have to fight off all the male admirers."

"I wish I had that problem," she confessed.

"Sorry, we won't fight over you," Blake admitted. "We won't because… I don't want to end up with nothing when this roller coaster ends I… I… don't think I'd handle it well. Tim said that he met you?"

"Yes."

"He informed you that he gave you his phone number so feel free to call him…. When I get too flakey blakey. Not that I have to give you permission to do anything but… just wanted to let you know… it's ok… "

"You alright?" Jemma asked.

"I don't know if I can handle another week in bed," he admitted. "I've run out of books to read. I have no friends to do "Words with Friends" with and …. John is not brushing Winston and his beard is a mess. Winston's, not Garrett."

There was a sharp inhalation and then Felix exhaled a curse.

"Your hip?" Jemma asked.

"Sciatica," he shortly admitted.

"I'm almost done playing Biker Barbie and we'll be there soon. Promise."

"I'll see you unless I decide to go out for gelato," Blake informed her. "I'm in the mood for stracciatella. Want Winston and me to pick some up for you when we run out for ours? What flavor?"

"That would be lovely. Surprise me," Jemma insisted.

"No, no, no. You telling me to surprise you means that I will bring home seventy-eleven types of gelato because I will be totally convinced that I didn't pick the right one. I do better with instructions. Clear cut instructions on what to do and how to behave and what to wear and what flavor gelato. I need to know what you expect from me."

Jemma Simmons tried to put a smile in her voice when she spoke. "Felix, whatever happens, you and I will be friends, no matter what. I promise you that you, me and Winston will have lovely afternoons where we go for gelato and you can wear whatever you want."

"You don't need to make promises to me," he assured her.

"We'll be there soon, with gelato, I promise," she said to Blake. "Giving the phone back to Phil now."

She handed the phone back to Phil and she nodded her head. "I think I'll try the chaps now."

"We'll pick up gelato on the way back," Phil promised her.


	23. Kisses and a Broken Down Conversion Van

SUNDAY AFTERNOON

"Here goes nothing," Skye nervously stated. She motioned toward Jemma, who knocked on the door.

"Hello, Mary Sue! Goodbye heart," serenaded John Garrett when he opened the door.

"Hello," Skye said. She was obviously confused by the fact that the turtle necked clad John Garrett had greeted her singing. She was physically burdened down with a cardboard box full of papers and several bakery boxes of various sizes.

"Passed me by one sunny day, flashed those big dark eyes my way. I knew I wanted you forever more. Now I'm not one that gets around, swear my feet stuck to the ground and 'though I never did meet you before," Garrett continued his free concert until Phil jabbed him in the side.

"Come in," Phil offered. "Ignore him as he'll soon get distracted and find another victim. Do you need any help?"

"I'll grab the bakery boxes," offered Garrett. "Phil is a gentleman, and he'll take the heavy box. He's such a gentleman."

Phil rolled his eyes at Garrett, but he took the heavy box even while he ushered Skye and Jemma into the apartment.

"Putting it on the kitchen table," he announced as he walked towards the kitchen table.

"This is nice," Skye admitted as she took a long look at the entrance-way. There were two leather motorcycle jackets nicely hung on a hall tree, Phil's coat and two empty hooks. There two sets of heavy leather boots neatly standing next to it and on the very top shelf, there were three helmets. Two adults size, one much smaller with a pair of goggles next to it. The apartment building was an old factory building converted to housing, so there was a great deal of brick and open space.

"Please hang your coats up," Garrett requested.

"Is that your helmet? It looks pretty small, but I like the spikes," chortled Skye as she pointed out a small helmet that had horns and spikes arranged in a row.

"Winston's helmet," called Phil from the kitchen.

"Winston is a biker?" Skye asked.

"Loves it," Phil assured her.

"How about I give you a few minutes with the boys, while I sit in the living room and pray to whatever God that might be listening that Agent Blake hasn't prepared a list of cutting remarks about my poor life choices and my even worse finances," Skye suggested.

"He's not that bad, really," Jemma insisted. "Just very introverted."

"He scares me," Skye whispered. "You didn't see the look on his face when his office was in flames."

"He didn't yell at me when I crippled him," Jemma retorted. "He was rather polite about it."

"Well, he's hoping…" Skye began and then stopped at the horrified look on Jemma's face. "Go talk to your boys."

* * *

Jemma Simmons walked into the kitchen and decided to be bold. She stood on her toes and kissed Garrett on his cheek (Why must he be so blasted tall?) and then buzzed Coulson (who was thankfully shorter) on his, which left both men flummoxed.

"Blue Skies is really nervous about dealing with Blake," Garrett finally announced.

"She believes that he dislikes her," Jemma admitted.

"Well, she's got a point. He doesn't… like her… but he doesn't… dislike… her. I mean, when his office went up, he rescued her as she had completely shut down. I mean, she worked for him…. Two days… so I don't think they really developed much of a rapport, in which time she's become in charge of his love life plus burned down his office." Phil offered. "Plus she's obviously nervous around him, which he notices."

"Then why is he helping her?" Jemma asked.

"She asked. You two are friendly, so…" Garrett shrugged her shoulders.

"He's helping her because of me?"

'Well, she asked him for help, so he would help her. However, your friendship with her certainly provided a bit of motivation, because he probably would have waited until he was on his feet instead of having a conference in his bedroom," was Phil's belief.

"No, he's bored out of his mind. This will be better for him than staring at the ceiling all day," John announced. Then with a very roguish smile, he added, "And with Blake busy being an accountant that means you get to spend quality time with Phil and me."

"You're horrid," teased Jemma. "I'm actually spending time with all three of you. Equal amounts of time, according to the schedule."

"I just love how she says **_Schedule_**. It sounds so very refine," emoted John in a very passable Received Pronunciation Accent. "So very civilized."

Phil looked at Simmons, then looked at John and he didn't even bother to hide his smile. Instead, he just smirked and pointed at the bakery boxes. "I'm assuming the big box with A.C. is mine?"

"A.C.?" John asked.

"Agent Coulson," he explained with a smile as he carefully opened the box. "Skye calls me that. Oh look, she got my favorites!"

"A.C.," John repeated with a leer. "Do I get a nice nickname on mine?"

"Oh look! It's has 'Blarney Boy' on it. Must be yours as the smallest box has a paw print and Winston scribbled on it," Phil announced. "The biggest box has 'Agent Blake' on it. Is she really planning on calling Felix, 'Agent Blake' forever and ever?"

"She's really quite scared of him," Jemma admitted. "I can't imagine why."

The two men looked at her, and they were trying not to smile. However, Phil started choking on his macaron and Garrett backslapped him hard which fortunately saved the nicest member of her harem from a premature death.

"Like I was," she finally admitted, before she decided to leave the two boys to their macarons that they were so obviously enamored with. "I'll go visit him as you two are horrid."

"Make sure you knock!" John catcalled.

* * *

Jemma Simmons knocked on his bedroom door and announced herself.

"Come in," Felix permitted.

"Hey," she said when she entered. It seemed that Felix had been anticipating Phil or John because he struggled to move himself into a sitting position once he realized it was her. That done, he struggled to beat down his hair with his hands.

"Don't get up," she insisted. "I'll come over and sit next to you. You'd be delighted to know that Skye has brought several pounds of macarons with her."

"My work suits aren't gonna fit," he tiredly protested. "I'll have to borrow one of John's turtlenecks when I'm back to work. Between ordering food whenever you come over, the fact that John can't cook and he can only manage takeout and now pounds upon pounds of macarons… while I'm flat on my back in bed…."

"You'll look adorable, even if you'll appear quite cross and scare everyone. You'll be needlessly fearing that you're chubby and hating that you're wearing a turtleneck," she teased. She leaned over him and was about to kiss him on his heavily stubbled cheek when he unexpectedly turned his head. Their lips touched and it turned from what she had planned on; a friendly buzz on the cheek to a gentle, open mouth kiss.

Unexpectedly, Jemma became hyper aware of everything. His rough stubble, how soft his lips were (that he was smiling when he kissed her! Smiling!) and that his taste was minty. The unexpected thrill she felt when he gently sucked on her lower lip, the fact that her heart was wildly pounding as Felix Blake' kiss was that of a very experienced kisser and how he was smoothly guiding her through this absolutely wonderful experience. And yes, there was tongue. Gentle and slow.

Not like Avery who had no skill, none what so ever she was delighted to realize, and who had tried to remove her tonsils with her tongue. Really, the entire experience with Avery had been such a turnoff that she had never bothered dating since then.

It was different with men, she was realizing. Men who held open doors, who treated her like a lady.

Avery was not at all like Blake, who she had originally believed to be acerbic and barbed. No instead, he was introspective and chary and he kissed like her teenage dreams come to life.

She pulled away first and his smiled faded. He moved his hand as though he wished to brush her hair from her eyes but instead he pulled his arm against his chest.

"I'm terribly… terribly… sorry," he whispered. His sincerity wounded her, more than just a little, but she struggled to smile.

"Don't be," she assured him.

"It won't happen again," he promised.

"Felix," she protested. She kept her tone calm though she wanted to pull her hair out in sheer utter frustration because he was such a splendid kisser. "Was I that bad a kisser?"

"No," he growled. "You were most assuredly were not. It's just that…"

He couldn't answer, couldn't voice whatever bothered him enough to cause him to emotionally retreat, but he'd tensed up, so stressed that he's literally shook. Instead of talking to him, she reached for his hand and squeezed it.

"I can't permit myself to open that door," he finally explained.

"What door?"

"Where I fool myself into thinking that I'm normal," he explained. "Where I permit myself certain thoughts and I forget how my unhinged mind works and spins and how it doesn't stop thinking."

She inched closer to him, and tilted her head.

"What thoughts?" she asked as she really had no clue.

He turned her way, gave her a very slow and utterly seductive smile and she blushed.

"I trust you," Jemma Simmons informed him.

"It's not that. It's just those thoughts could be… rather graphic and rather… explicit…. I would never ever do any of those things… but I've done a great deal of reading and the potential exists and I have to keep that part of me locked down because I don't want to be like that. I couldn't live like that. Not with you. Not with those thoughts. It's hard enough living with a mind that constantly wonders if I remembered to check page five thoroughly, but to have a mind that relentlessly focused on **_those_ ** thoughts?"

She just looked at him, struggled to process their conversation and then she decided to give up because as John had succinctly explained, "Felix being Felix means Eeyore has arrived in the house and you've got to let Pooh Coulson deal with him". However, while she gave up, it was not done without a fight as he was in fact, a simply wonderful kisser.

"Did you ever have these thoughts with Nicolette?" she asked.

"No," he firmly stated. "Never."

"Did you ever have any urge to hurt Nicolette? Even after you two went your separate ways?" Jemma probed.

"Never, I loved her. I would never intentionally hurt her, even now," protested Felix.

"Felix, do you or do you not have frequent frickle frackle with John and Phil?"

"Define frequent," was his over analytical response. "I also need their signed approval for full disclosure of our relationship."

"And have you ever hurt them, when you furiously frickle frackled? In fact, I believe Phil accidentally hurt you…"

"Irish skin," he immediately protested as Felix had to protect Phil. Naturally.

"And you didn't even tell him. You didn't even strike back, or complain or anything, no, instead you said absolutely nothing because you were afraid he'd refuse to continue with your… understanding," Jemma stumbled as she couldn't find the right word to describe their odd relationship. "I'm not afraid of you, nor am I afraid of this supposed dark side of you. It hasn't made an appearance yet, and I rather doubt that it will. I do appreciate your concern, however I can handle you. John Garrett bought me a bowling ball, and I'm not afraid to use it. I might be able to deliberately aim it soon with sufficient practice."

And Felix Blake laughed.

"Go get Hacker Grrrl in here. I think fixing her finances would be easier than figuring you out."

* * *

"He's ready for you," Simmons informed Skye, who looked as though she was heading to the dentist.

"Do tears work on Agent Blake?" Skye hopefully asked. She had big fake tears in her eyes and a credible lip quiver was performed.

"No, I cry all the time and it doesn't faze Agent Blake at all," John Garrett inserted.

"Big tears," Phil quipped as he gestured 'big tears' with his hands. "And his face gets all blotchy. Agent Blake just rolls his eyes and tells him to cease and desist. He's such a hardass that when Garrett's looking blotchy that it doesn't affect him at all."

"I'm Irish!" Garrett protested. "I have fair skin."

"I thought you were Texan," retorted Phil.

"Austin by way of Galway," was Garrett's lightning fast response.

"They should take their act on the road," Skye helpfully informed Simmons.

"For the love of God, do not encourage them," a groaning Jemma insisted. "Unleashing them on the unsuspecting public. Now bring your paperwork down to Agent Blake and bring the Macarons with you as they may save your life."

Skye trudged down the hallway and Garrett gestured for Simmons and Coulson to follow him, so they were standing by Blake's bedroom wall. He took out a small device from a drawer and placed it on the wall.

"Hi, Agent Blake?" Skye's voice came through softly on the device. "Thank you for looking at my finances. They're a real mess, as you've guessed."

"Skye, I've done some investigating. What's your physical address? Your real physical address? Not the one you utilized for your HR records as that's a condemned building. If you lack suitable housing, you can get a room in the barracks," Blake informed her.

"I don't like living in the barracks, it's too close, too noisy, I don't fit in," Skye admitted.

"Where are you living?" Blake asked again. "Don't tell me you couch surf?"

"No, not at all," Skye insisted.

"Please do not tell me you are the transient that is living in that broken down 1983 GMC conversion van with the leaky oil pan that's in 4th subbasement in the garage?"

"No!"

Coulson pulled the device off the wall and turned towards Garrett. "Call Max's mother, see if she's looking for a renter. Skye can't live in a van in the garage."

"I didn't know," Jemma insisted while Phil nodded his head in easy agreement.

"Got it. I think she doesn't have anyone renting it," Garrett assured Phil. He pulled out his phone and dialed the phone. "Hola. Senora Lopez?" Long pause. "Yes, it's John, I promise to stop practicing my Spanish on you and yes, thank for you for the chicken enchiladas. No one makes green sauce like you. You made Felix muy feliz. "

Jemma looked at Phil who motioned for them to give John some privacy.

"Max was one of John's specialists. He died when Hydra put a bomb in his car. John's been in contact with his mother since then, and he helps her out if she needs it. She has an apartment that she rents and it might be good for Skye. Got offstreet parking so she can keep the van someplace, as I don't think that van is actually running right now? John's a good mechanic, so he can probably get it back on the road."

John was liberally spicing his conversation with a mixture of cajoling and flattery and horrid Spanglish. Phil smiled.

"We're watching **_Pacific Rim_** , so let's take a seat. Today, we're canceling the apocalypse," he informed her. "And we'll have Skye in real housing by next week. Promise."

* * *

Jemma sat in the middle of the sofa, with John on one side and Phil on the other. The movie was unintentionally funny as John and Phil commented incessantly throughout.

"Look! There's Nick!" when Stacker Pentecost first appeared in the movie, which was funny, but Simmons loudly protested when she and Fitz were compared to Geiszler and Gottlieb. Really, it wasn't funny, not at all!

Phil and John both insisted on pausing the film and recreating Penetcost's speech in the most Furiest way possible.

"Today, today… at the edge of our hope, at the end of our time, we've chosen not only to believe in ourselves but in each other. Today, there's not a man nor woman in here that shall stand alone. Not today. Today we face the monsters that are at our door and bring the fight to them! Today, we are cancelling the apocalypse!"

She giggled uncontrollably and refused to declare either man the victor, though John Garrett held the slightest edge over Phil because he reproduced Nick Fury's startling intensity.

They were still comparing characters in the movie to real-life characters in their lives when Skye walked out to the living room. She looked pale and she whimpered whenever John Garrett was too loud.

"Hey Blue Skies, you ok?" Garrett bellowed.

Skye looked startled and she clutched a ledger book tightly against her chest.

"My brain hurts, as he tried to explain basic accounting to me," she softly admitted. "I'm going home now, I'll see you on Monday."

"Do you have…" John began but stopped, as he couldn't confess that he knew that she was homeless. "A ride?"

"Taking the train," Skye stated.

"I'll go as I drove you here," Jemma decided. She gave each man a quick kiss on their cheek and promised that she'd see them. "Please tell Felix goodbye."

* * *

Felix Blake was surrounded by paperwork, some of which looked suspiciously like numbers that had been scribbled down on Chinese restaurants menus. To say he looked displeased was an understatement.

"I don't know if I can help her," he admitted. "This is just…an…insane…situation. What can we do for housing? She's living in a van."

"First of all, we need to stake out the van so it's secure," Garrett ordered. "I'll do it tonight. I can't do it now because she's heading there. Max's mother says Skye can have the apartment on Saturday. Last tenant did some damage so she needed to repair it."

"Ok," Phil decided. "Saturday morning, we move her."

"When are we planning on telling her?" Garrett asked.

"Saturday morning works for me," Phil offered. "Think you'll be on your feet then, Felix? Or at least crutches?"

"From your mouth to God's ears," Felix admitted. "That van? Can you do anything with it?"

"I'll take a look at it," John decided. "I'll get Fitz to help as he might be able to jury rig something so it will pass inspection."

"Ok, Operation Blue Skies is a go," Phil announced.

* * *

SATURDAY MORNING

Skye was sitting in her van, in her pjs, enjoying her fruit loops.

"Home sweet home," she sighed. "It's not as spectacular as Agent Blake's place, and I'd like to know how he could afford that on his salary, but you're mine. We've been together for so long, Vannie, and ain't nothing gonna separate us. Though I wish I could get you to run. One of these days, someone will notice that you haven't moved from this spot in weeks."

There was a loud bang on the back door of her van, and then someone knocked on it. She grabbed her essentials and decided to exit via the side door. She pushed it open to discover a stern, leather coat clad Agent Blake on crutches. Winston had sat next to him, and he wagged his docked tail.

She screeched, "AGENT BLAKE!" like he was a monster from her nightmares, slammed the door shut on him, and then ran towards the back door. After she opened it, she discovered John Garett.

"Phil's up on the driver's side door," John explained. "So, can we come in?"

"NO!" Skye protested as her van looked well… like a homeless person lived in it. "What are you doing?"

"We're moving you to a much nicer neighborhood," John Garrett explained.

"Has running water," offered Felix Blake who had crutched his way over to the door.

"We've got boxes," Phil stated.

"Need help packing any unmentionables?" Garrett asked. He never flinched when a glowering Blake crutched him and Phil slapped the back of his head.

"Garrett's also a decent mechanic. He'll take a look at your van and see if it can be salvaged," Felix explained. "However, perhaps you may want to change? Though I'm sure Coulson believes that your Captain America PJS are quite cute?"

* * *

SATURDAY AFTERNOON

Skye sat in her new apartment while her new landlord reviewed her lease, including such odd things such as two month's security, deposits, prepayment of rent and finally she shook her head.

"I don't have enough money to pay for security," she admitted.

"It's been paid, along with your first two month's rent."

Skye smiled and murmured that she'd have to thank Coulson for his assistance.

"It wasn't him," Mona Lopez informed her. "Mr. Blake put down the deposit. He also made sure you had some furniture such as the bed and the kitchen table."

They continued their discussion and then Mrs. Lopez left, leaving her alone in her brand new apartment. Skye walked about for a bit and she set her hula girl hula skirt swaying with a gentle touch. That done, Skye inspected her new place once more and then she picked up the phone.

"Agent Blake," he answered in his usual terse tone.

"Hi, Agent Blake, I just wanted to say thank you," she offered. "I'll pay you back, I promise."

"Don't, you don't have a pot to piss in," he protested. "There's no contract or any obligation, so you don't have to pay me back."

"But I need to do something," she protested. "I'd still be living in my van if wasn't for you."

"Phil and John helped. Thank them, but don't buy them any more macarons, as you can't afford it."

"Seriously, you paid my deposit and bought me furniture," Skye reminded him. "I need to repay you."

"How about, you don't lie to me?" Blake requested. "How about when I ask you if you're living in a van, you don't lie. Instead of creating some nonsensical story about you living in another abandoned building. If people are willing to assist you, it is a lot easier if you don't lie to them."

"I was embarrassed?" she offered.

He just sighed, and stated, "Goodnight, Skye. I'll see you on Monday. By the way, Kurt Cobain called, he wants his plaid back."

"What?" Skye not so wittily asked.

"You're working in an office. Try to dress professionally, so no sweats, no plaid flannel shirts. Simmons is taking you shopping tomorrow so I want you suitably attired on Monday."

She didn't have any money and certainly wasn't about to tell him that. Hearing her nonverbal reluctance, Blake sighed. "She's taking you to the thrift stores. Vintage is the new plaid, or so I've been told by Coulson who will be overseeing this mission as he and John are funding it. Good night, Skye."


	24. Welcome Back, Blake

SUNDAY EVENING

"I don't understand why your guys are helping me out," a subdued Skye confided to Jemma. "Did you ask them?"

"They did it on their own," Jemma explained. "I had nothing to do with it."

"Garrett and Fitz worked on my van, Agent Blake…"

"Felix…" Jemma inserted.

"Agent Blake got me into decent housing and I have a real bed with a comfy mattress and… and… a kitchen table with chairs… and… they're helping me..." Skye's lip trembled. "AC's helped me get…properly dressed so I don't embarrass Agent Blake… and… he bought me sheets for my bed…. And… they won't let me pay them back, and nobody's ever done anything for me without wanting something in exchange before. And I offered Garrett… and… and… he … refused to understand what I was offering, and I shouldn't have, because he's your guy and I don't do that shit to friends… but… I don't know how else to pay them back because they're men and I don't have any money because I'm broke five minutes after payday. And you and Fitz are my only friends and I'm scared I fucked it all up because everyone's being nice to me and nobody has before and I don't know how to act, because I don't want to be ungrateful, but they won't let me pay them back."

The lip trembling turned into a full bout of weeping as the younger woman threw her arms around Simmons and cried.

And Jemma Simmons realized that for the pre-Shield Skye, her usual currency had been her body.

* * *

Felix Blake gratefully sank on the couch and gingerly placed his lame leg up on the large ottoman. Phil carefully sat next to him, and ruffled Felix's hair.

"Stop," protested Felix.

Naturally, Phil didn't stop, instead he moved his hand lower, so he was rubbing Felix's neck. Carefully, and he was rewarded by Felix undulating like a cat being scratched.

"Tomorrow, want me to stop by after work? You can feed me, I'll get you drunk and I'll take advantage of you? Nothing too exotic," offered Phil. "Hand job, some kissing."

"Promise to hold me until the morning?" wryly teased Felix. "Or you could just continue rubbing my neck as that feels really good."

"Felix might still respect you in the morning," Garrett added as he handed both men a beer. "But I doubt it, as Coulson's a tart."

"You joining us?" Phil asked. "Room if you're interested and inclined."

"Tempting," Garrett admitted, after a long swig. "What do you say, Blake? Shall we cuddle?"

"Fuck cuddling. You two owe me as I had to listen to you two," Felix mocked protested. "You're both fucking loud. However, you two go have fun. I better pass because of my leg."

"What about Simmons?" Garrett asked.

"She hasn't expressed an interest in a Ménage de trois as far as I know," Phil quipped. "Let alone a Ménage de quatre."

"No, he's right. What about Simmons? We are supposed to be dating her… are we supposed to be celibate?" Felix asked. He leaned back into the chair, closing in on himself, internalizing and analyzing the current situation. Coulson continued to stroke Felix's neck as he hated when Blake withdrew into himself.

Garrett gracelessly collapsed into a recliner, sprawling one leg over the arm. All the while deliberately ignoring Felix's wince at the possible damage to his furniture, as even without Garrett's cybernetic implants, he was a big boy. Phil stopped rubbing Felix's neck and pulled away, as though he felt guilty about quasi cheating on Simmons.

"In our rush to save her from Ward and Sitwell, we didn't really think this out," protested Felix. "Now that we've rescued her, what the hell are we supposed to do for the next five months?"

"In fairness, we only had two hours to put a plan together, so it's acceptable that it's not your usual level of perfection," Garrett drawled. "However, I would recommend keeping you out of traction. Now while you planning that out, we've got another problem."

"Dare I ask?" Felix protested. "I think this problem is big enough."

Garrett shifted himself so he was sitting with both feet on the ground and he leaned towards Felix and Phil. In a very soft voice, he explained, "It's Blue Skies. She offered me a unique form of payment for fixing her van. Speaking of which, I should be able to get it to pass inspection by next weekend. I needed to put in a new carburetor and I need to find an alternator. One of the guys in the motor pool that owes me a solid or four, so I managed to get it towed into a bay so I could work on it. Fitz was pretty helpful also."

"Payment?" Phil asked. He looked at Garrett in confusion and then when he realized what Garrett meant, he futilely protested, "No, no, no. **_No_**. She's younger than Simmons."

"Phil!" Felix seemed a bit rattled. "Please tell me that when you went clothes shopping with her today, she will be dressed professionally tomorrow."

Phil looked confused.

"Felix is asking if she'll be flashing her…" Garrett began.

"No, I told her to put those shirts back," Phil Coulson assured both men. He had taken a paternal interest in Skye as he had been the one to locate the hacker and bring her into SHIELD. That meant any clothes that he had deemed as showing too much skin had been placed in the pile of "AC's not paying for THAT, young lady. You're working for SHIELD, not a strip club."

"Thank you. Claire used to flash me constantly in her spiteful attempts at flustering me. What did you do?" Felix asked.

"What I normally do. I pretended I was too stupid to realize what she was saying. It's my modus operandi that's worked so well over the years," John admitted with an easy grin. "She pushed the issue so finally I had a little conversation with her. That the three of us weren't expecting sex in payment for helping her out and that if anyone tried that on her at the company, she was to let me know, so I'd break their legs. And then I'd cut off their penis, wrap it, complete with a bow and hand it to her."

"Speaking of which, Ward is sniffing around her," Phil advised.

The three men groaned and even Winston looked displeased.

"I warned her about him. I was his SO and there's always been something off about him. I mean, his old headmaster was a friend of mine, so I took him as a favor, but he's off," Garrett admitted. "I don't how Sitwell can deal with him, unless he's being ordered to do so."

"Winston hates him," Felix added.

"Good enough for me. So, we've got issues with Simmons and her unknown expectations on our sex lives, but it's too late for some of us if she was anticipating that we'd be chaste and true. We've got Skye who thinks we want sex because we're helping her out because … why are we helping her out again?" Garrett asked. "When did we adopt her like she's a stray cat? Why the hell is all our problems due to sex? We're in our fifties? Sex is a young man's problem… until it becomes an old man's problem."

"Get a script for the little blue pills if you're having problems. However, let's blame Phil for the Skye issue, he brought her into the fold," Felix offered. Wisely, Phil said nothing while Felix requested that he talk to the Hacker and make her stop.

"Time for bed," Phil decided as it was time for a quick exit.

"Just sleep over," Garrett suggested. "You've got work clothes here. Blake will make waffles in the morning."

"I will?" Blake asked.

"Yes, Apple, Cheddar and Prosciutto Waffles. I picked up what you needed and even grated the cheese already," John confessed. "Besides you owe me, Blake. After I took two weeks off…"

"You were **_suspended_** ," Felix inserted.

"Two weeks off…" John merrily continued as though Felix hadn't interrupted.

"SUSPENDED for punching two fellow agents," Felix inserted.

"To care of my wounded, bed bound pookie bear."

Phil mouthed, "Pookie Bear" and didn't bother to hide his grin. "More like Eeyore."

"I'm heading to bed," growled Felix. "And for the record, Christopher Robin Coulson, Eeyore was the only sane one in forest, as Garrett… sorry Tigger… had bounced his brains out long ago."

* * *

Being considerate, and naturally, they would deny it with their dying breaths, they let him get ready for bed first. He positioned himself in the middle with assorted pillows, so they'd know he wouldn't mind a cuddle as sleeping on the edge meant that he was offering to be a cuddler, opposed to a cuddlee, turned off the light (as Phil couldn't sleep with the light on, and since they were being considerate, he could also, though he preferred at least some sort of light when he slept as when he woke up in pitch darkness, he would have to remind himself… in bed…not under a building).

He couldn't fall asleep.

His mind was racing, racing, racing, because he was thinking about Simmons and fearing her sweet smile. She'd come between him and his friends, pick Phil (naturally as he was the sane one, the stable one, the one that would be a good provider and treat her like gold and just fucking worship the ground she tread upon) leaving him with Garrett and between the two of them, manic, overprotective Garrett who would cosset and suffocate the neurotic, obsessive Blake because he cared too much; they'd spin off in their little solar system of self-destructive behavior, like lemmings going over a cliff, because the stable one would be gone and he should hate Phil but he couldn't, and he couldn't blame Garrett for being Garrett and for his need to protect, but like hell, he could blame himself for being himself because he was the only one that he could fix his fragility in himself and he needed to prepare himself for the slow, inevitable slide into madness but he'd fight and claw his way like he did every single day.

And God help him, if Skye decided to flash her tits at him, because he'd freak because he knew she was scared of him and he didn't know fucking why as he hadn't done anything to her and all he had done was try to fix out her credit because she had stupidly paid bail for her ex and once Miles had absconded, she had maxed out her credit cards (And gotten more) to pay for the rat because he had been released on recognizance and Felix had already put his information into the system, so if he did anything, he'd be flagged and brought to justice. And he needed to get her to a bank so they could consolidate her loans into something manageable and he'd have to cosign it (but done circumspectly and carefully so she kept her pride as he had his pride ripped from him, and once you lost that, it was like a lover scorned, and would never came back until you crawled through mud and shit) because his cosigning was the only way she could get a consolidation loan as she had the worst credit he had ever seen (Because she had been young, in love and just so blasted naïve about what scum Miles had been that he had the urge to shake her and yell at her, but he'd leave that to Phil as he had seemed to have become her de facto father figure and GOD! He hoped that Skye wasn't planning on putting Phil in a horizontal position because that reeked of incest.) And he couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that Skye had thought she needed to bed them to pay them for helping her, because really, they were decent guys, widespread rumors of their insanity to the contrary, and she had always been decent to them (though terrified) and that was a good enough reason to help her as she was nothing more than a kid who was completely over her head and why the hell did she think she needed to spread her legs? And what did that say about him, because he wasn't interested, AT ALL, but the slightest thoughts of sex and Simmons emotionally paralyzed him?

And Claire had emailed him, a haughty long-winded tirade about how he gotten her sent to the Containment Zone, that he needed to get her back as his assistant as God only knew how he couldn't function without someone to babysit him and his all neurosis and he had gotten angry, fucking furious about that after all he had done for her that she still insisted on acting like he owed her, so he had written her back, carbon copied Jasper Sitwell as her new manager and had informed her that since she had had quit, she was no longer his responsibility as he had a new assistant who was actually working out far better than Claire ever had because she was able to spell and she could type 120 words per minute without errors, and had made the best cup of coffee he had ever had in his life (OK, he lied) and he thanked her for her assistance but it was no longer required. And he had added a PS in which he had informed Jasper Sitwell that he believed Claire had an inflated sense of self-worth and entitlement as she believed that she was the only one capable of managing Bennie the Brain, and that he wished him the best of luck of handling her because she was no longer his responsibility and to advise Claire that Benny was flourishing without her and that his department heads had even commented on Benny's increasing stability. (And the 'Atta Boy' from Timmy Dugan, Unlikely Therapist for Damaged Head Cases like Felix, for that email had just been the icing on the cake because Timmy had loathed Claire from Day 1).

Tomorrow he have to return to work and deal with crutches and the white lie that they had created, in which his injury had been caused by a freak accident as opposed to the Bowling Ball Blitzkreig and he'd have to go back to pretending that he loathed Coulson as Fury's Special Snowflake because it was easier for Phil. And Timmy didn't understand why the three of them kept their relationship under the covers when they met with him, so to speak as he had willingly had informed Felix about him, Gabe, Jim, Jacques and the rest as apparently in war time, it was really a don't ask, don't tell because what happened in the Hydra camp had kept them bonded as brothers.

An hour or so later, Phil came in, slid behind his back and placed one arm around him. Garrett took the front side and placed his arm over Phil's arm. And they even turned the light on for him.

"Turn your mind off," Phil whispered.

"Can't," he protested. "Whirling like a dervish."

"We need to distract him," John teased. "Any ideas, Phil?"

"I have an idea, but we have to be very careful," Phil agreed.

There was no doubt in his damaged mind that Simmons had a rather carnal contemplation of the three of them together, (like some sort of really hardcore gay porno video where the guys were muscular and packed eighteen inches and practiced yoga all fucking day) but she'd be disappointed. Soft (Compared to their hard body primes of their twenties), scarred bodies, some not so standard issues parts and a whole lot of kissing and wandering hands.

Later on, he drifted off to sleep, loose-limbed and blissful, with an equally sated Phil who insisted on nuzzling his neck. The thirty seven voices in his head were at last silenced, sprawled in their mental bed (The few that were still awake were smoking cigarettes and drinking beers though one of the voices he'd swear was smoking weed as he was giggling inanely and wanted munchies but Felix was not getting out of bed, even for chips), when Garrett drawled, "Last one up has to throw the sheets in the hamper."

Phil's laugh was warm against his neck and an indignant Garrett protested, "What?"

"Istanbul," Blake tersely explained.

"Six weeks in a safe house," Phil inserted.

"Six weeks, four days, three hours and two minutes," Blake corrected.

"And you never changed the sheets," Phil and Blake exclaimed together while Garrett sputtered a protest.

"What happened to our little philistine?" Phil asked. "Did Blake finally house train you?"

"Copious use of rolled up newspaper, applied to his nose. John does dishes also," was Blake's proud comment. "Vacuums and does laundry. I refuse to let him iron."

"I wear turtlenecks so I don't have to iron," John teased.

"You wear turtlenecks because of these," was Phil's reminder, even as he gently caressed Garrett's scars from the third degree burns (and Blake can still remember seeing an unconscious Garrett in the burn unit, how he and Phil took turns and watched by the bedside as there was no one else because Garrett's team was dead, and Phil touched the scar oh so carefully because he needed to be) while Blake touched the electrical implant which controlled Garrett's chronic pain so he could actually function.

"Yeah, that too," John softly admitted.

And while Jemma Simmons might come between them, she'll never be able to completely eradicate their bond. Or so Felix Blake hoped; because the alternative was unlivable.

* * *

"Do I look alright?" Skye asked Jemma Simmons. She was wearing a smart pant set and a brightly colored dress shirt.

"Unbutton the top, you look uncomfortable," Fitz inserted. He was juggling supplies for the 'Welcome Back to Work, Blake' Surprise party which had required him to get up early. EARLY.

"AC said no skin," she reminded Fitz.

"No boobs is what he meant, so third button is fine," Fitz stated. "He doesn't want you displaying them like they are about to burst out of their restraints and attack New York as Blake won't get any work done."

"FITZ!" Shrieked Simmons. "He's not like that? They're all gentlemen."

"You sure?" Skye asked. "Third button?"

Fitz nodded, and Skye hesitantly unbuttoned the first, second and yes, third button. "Oh thank GOD! I can breathe now."

"Yes, Skye, I'm sure, it's ok. And Simmons, you didn't see their faces when you wore that bandage sweater. Their jaws dropped. They're **_men_** , Simmons. Perhaps, very well behaved men, but they're men."

"Not discussing," Simmons primly announced. "Let's set up the office."

* * *

They descended upon his freshly redone office and decided to open a window as it did smell of paint. (Better than burnt coffee). There was a new coffee machine that Coulson and Garrett had bought and Skye carefully and deliberately followed the explicit directions (complete with diagrams) that she had been given. Everything tripled checked, she then carefully and with true fear pressed the "ON" Button. There was a happy whirl of the blender and then in a little bit, there was a smell of ambrosia in the air. Coffee had been MADE!

She even remembered to put the pot on, so it was filling up.

Meanwhile, Simmons had placed a large dog pillow with a plaid, flannel cover in the spot where Winston always rested next to Felix's feet. Fitz set up the various accouterments needed for coffee, plus a spread of bagels, Danishes and whatever else when they realized that they weren't alone. No, a tall female with red streaks in her hair arrived, followed by two other females. One was a serious looking expressionless female, whose tag said "AGENT MELINDA MAY" and Assistant Director Maria Hill, who was about to lay claim on an Apple Danish when the tall female snapped, "I know it's free food, Maria. However, can't you wait until Blake arrives?"

"This isn't the Hub, you're not in charge here, Hand," Maria retorted. However, she moved away from the Danish.

Jasper Sitwell then arrived, and he put a card on Felix's desk that already had several cards with his name on it. "Hello," he easily greeted the other agents.

"How's the Containment Zone, Sitwell?" May asked.

"Hot, stinking, radioactive. I deeply appreciate being recalled back to humanity," Sitwell admitted.

"Misbehave again, I'll keep you there permanently," Hand announced and Sitwell nodded his understanding.

Simmons looked at Fitz and mouthed, "Who invited them?"

More arrivals, (and WHO had invited them? As Skye was worried that there would be insufficient Danishes to feed them all as Hill kept eyeing the Danishes with a predatory look) mainly senior agents, a few analysts and then Timmy the Therapist arrived, dragging an older lady with him. It took Simmons a moment to realize that it was Mimi Roberts from the cafeteria. There was also a tall muscular dark skinned agent standing behind Timmy and he seemed amused.

"I mentioned to Mrs. Roberts that Felix was due back today and she was delighted. So I took it upon myself to invite her to the party and she made a crumb cake, cinnamon-pecan buns and a few other delicacies, as I wasn't sure if we'd have enough food," Dugan announced in a low roar. "He changed her flat for her one night."

"In the pouring rain when I was at the store," she murmured, as well, as a low level agent, even one with advanced culinary skills (e.g. knife) she was quite terrified of the crew by which she was surrounded which earned her Skye's sympathies. "I even made some biscuits for Winston."

"Antoine Triplett. Gabe's grandson," Timmy barked as he introduced the agent behind him. "Simmons, hope you don't mind. Invited a few people to this. Plus I brought tea, for those of us that refuse to drink coffee."

Drs. Streiten and Foster arrived next, and Foster handed out reminders to those agents (all the Level 7s and above currently present) that were overdue on their physicals causing a great deal of protestations.

"I think we should have held this in a bigger office," growled the next arrival, which was Director Fury. "So seriously, what the fuck happened to Blake? I've got no details on how he dislocated his hip?"

"Bike accident," Sitwell quickly answered.

"Felix had a motorcycle accident? When he did not report it to his insurance company and as far as I can tell, his bike is still sitting in the parking garage without a scratch on it. I'm a nosy bastard," admitted Nick Fury. "Doctors? I'm his boss after all."

Foster and Streiten looked at each and then Timmy Dugan jumped in.

"Let it go, Nicky," Dum Dum announced.

"Don't call me Nicky. I know you were besties with my old man, but we've been through this. Nick, Fury, even Director Fury, but not Nicky," barked Fury.

"Ok, Nicky," Timmy repeated. Then to the crowd of amused agents, "He's so like his old man. Did I ever tell you about how Senior and I took out a Hydra base with a toothbrush..."

"My God, that's Garrett in forty years," hissed Skye to Simmons. "You know I'm right!"

"Ah, Sirs?" Triplett interrupted. "I believe that this is supposed to be a surprise?"

"Yes," Skye agreed, "We were hoping to surprise him".

"Then perhaps, you two shouldn't yell at each other because they're probably hearing you three floors down, besides shaking the building. It may ruin the surprise?" Trip asked.

"Smart agent, takes after Gabe," whispered Tim. "So I think this is it for the total guests? Mrs. Roberts? Why don't you take a seat?"

"May I?" Mrs. Roberts asked, who still looked very uncomfortable with the sheer abundance of senior agents in the small office. "I have a bit of problem with my sciatica."

* * *

The boys overslept, barely having time for a quick shower, a shave and to find suitable clothing, before they piled into Garrett's car.

"Is this your shirt I'm wearing?" A concerned Felix asked Phil even while he picked at his shirt. "I usually don't wear striped dress shirts."

"Might be? Least it's muted so it doesn't clash with your tie. Am I wearing your tie?" Phil questioned.

"Let me look," Blake requested. He flipped the tie over, examined the label and checked the pattern. "No, I have something similar."

"For the love of God, boys. How many times do I have to tell you that putting your initials in your clothing would make the morning after so much easier? It's pretty obvious you're doing the walk of shame when you're wearing each other's clothes," catcalled Garrett from the front seat. A happy Winston, delighted as he was returning back to work and the widespread adoration of all the various secretarial staff, woofed an agreement.

"Shut up, some of us wear more than turtlenecks," snapped Phil. "Speaking of which, it's John's birthday in a few weeks. I suppose we could try something new for a gift; what about Turtlenecks, Felix?"

"Perhaps a couple with short sleeves," Felix offered, but he turned serious. "Coffee? I need coffee. Can we stop on the way? I checked the alarm five times before I went to bed. What happened?"

"No idea," Phil admitted though he knew that Garrett had turned off the alarm so that they'd be late to work as they were both involved in the 'Welcome Back Blake' party that Skye had decided to organize.

"We can grab some in the cafeteria. You know Mrs. Roberts like you," offered Garrett. "She always slips you a free Danish."

"I just changed her tire in the middle of a monsoon," Blake admitted.

"Please, your rippling biceps as you jacked her tire," Garrett explained. "The way your suit was plastered against your frame, due to the drenching rain. The thinness of your dress shirt with the opened collar, displaying everything, as you had removed your tie so not to get it caught into the jack. Good God, man, you do know what you're her screensaver on her cell phone?"

"Can I beat him to death with my crutch?" a flummoxed Felix asked Coulson. "Please?"

"Not recommended while he's driving," Coulson dryly asserted.

"Pity," Felix sighed.

* * *

"No coffee," growled Felix as he ferociously crutched his way to his office. "I have to deal with Phil's Hacker without any coffee onboard. I can't believe the cafeteria was closed and we couldn't get a cup of coffee."

"I'm sure if anything …. Unexpected occurs… you'll be cleared after a full review," Coulson offered.

"I don't know what else could go wrong, I'm wearing your shirt, a striped shirt. I don't have any coffee in my system," protested Felix. "Seriously, what else could go wrong?"

"I think we better escort him to his office so there are no victims of friendly fire," Garrett quipped.

Naturally, they were about twenty feet from his office when the psycho ex, Nicolette, arrived. She was wearing something quite tight and short that showed off her legs and her boobs which meant that she wanted something from Felix. "Felix…." She breathily announced.

"Oh fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck," Garrett whispered to Coulson. "If he ends up back in her bed tonight, we're calling Timmy and doing an intervention. Sock and soap, if you know what I mean."

Coulson nodded, as interactions between Nicolette and Felix usually ended up the same self-destructive way, with Felix in her bed.

"I'm having problems with the Mustang," she began.

"And?" Felix asked. He was juggling his crutches while he opened the door to his office. He was so focused on Nicolette that he failed to see the seventeen people in his office when the door finally opened. "What's the problem with the Mustang?"

"It slips out of gear and it smells like it's burning," she explained. "Felix, what's the problem?"

"You've ruined the clutch, you have to get it fixed," Felix tersely explained. "You need to take it to the dealer."

"Felix, any idea how much that will cost? You'll pay for it, right?" Nicolette simpered. She didn't see the crowd of fascinated onlookers as she leaned against the door and gave Felix quite the show.

"No, because I told you to get an automatic as you ride the clutch. I'm not paying for the repairs, Nikki."

"Come on, Felix. You'll know you'll pay for it, you always pay for the repairs on the Mustang," she cooed. "Why are you being so difficult?"

"Nikki, get the fuck out of my office. Get the fuck out of my life. The free gravy train has ended, finally. I should have cut you off when you walked out. So hock the ring, get a second job, cut back on your shoe fetish, but I'm not paying for your clutch. Now get the fuck out of my office as I have work to do," Blake growled.

"Felix, what's gotten into you?" Nikki pouted, and yes, she stamped her foot.

"I'm dating a really nice girl who's absolutely fucking amazing. She's fucking brilliant, and she's pretty and she's the complete and utter opposite of you. I feel like I've finally gotten off the crazy train. You know how you always told me that I was crazy? You were the one that fucking drove me insane with your neediness and your clinging."

She tried to slap him and he grabbed her hand before the blow landed.

"You ever try to do that to me again, I'm going to HR and I will get your ass fucking fired. Now get the fuck out of my office," he enunciated. "Bye, Nikki. Get some pride, stand on your own feet. Get a fucking degree or three. Men find that very attractive."

She stormed out and Blake turned. His face froze when he realized that he had just given quite the show to most of the senior agents of SHIELD.

However, Timmy was smiling in approval, "Well done, lad. Well fucking done."

Skye having missed the altercation as she was shortest person in the room, decided it was time for tunes.

Da, da, daa daaaaa dummmm…. The familiar song filled the room and Felix Blake rolled his eyes.

"Welcome back," sang John Sebastian. "Yeah, we tease him a lot 'cause we've got him on the spot, welcome back, Welcome back, welcome back, welcome back."

"Fucking hate you both," Felix Blake whispered to Coulson and Garrett. "Fucking hate you both."

Skye, unaware of everything that had just occurred, walked over to Felix, carefully holding a hot cup of coffee. "I made coffee for you," she said proudly. "Really good coffee."

"Thank you," Felix Blake said.


	25. Conversations over Ice Cream

After everyone had left his office, leaving him, his new assistant and Winston alone, Felix Blake attempted to smile, to be… how did his therapist say it, to be seen as open and approachable, as opposed to being seen as closed off and reclusive. His earnest endeavor at being… friendly… failed as Skye stepped back one foot and bumped into her chair.

Why did he even bother? Seriously, why?

Fortunately, Winston nudged his hand, and reassured Blake that Winston loved Blake best of everyone in the entire universe. And if Blake would give a good rub to his ears, Winston would love him even more.

"I understand that you're responsible for the 'Welcome Back, Blake' party. Thank you, it was… unexpected," he admitted. (And embarrassing as he had told off Nicolette in front of everyone). "Now that I'm back, and you've successfully proven that you can make coffee without need for the fire department being utilized, we can move on to other important job skills."

"Analyzing data?" Skye asked. "I watched when we worked together…. Well, the two days we worked together before you got hurt and I want to learn that data array you utilized, as that was an interesting way of tickling the data."

"Sorry, no data arrays for you. Yet. Your focus is on actually getting your driver's license," he stated. "We need to get real legal identification on you, with your real name, so we can finish fixing your credit."

"But I have my driver's license!" Skye stated proudly as she pulled it from her wallet. She displayed it for him to review. "See?"

He didn't even look at it. It was fake, fake, fake.

"It's a fake," Blake reminded her. "I've unhacked your hack, so Mary Sue, that license is no longer valid in any of the fifty states, Puerto Rico, Canada, Mexico and most of South America. Really, reassigning Sister Mary Agnes of the Perpetual Agony's license number for your personal use? Do you have any idea what those four speeding tickets did to that poor nun's insurance rates?"

"Let me guess, you went to Catholic school?" She asked. "You put a dash in your Z's and your 7's. And the way you knot your tie is a dead giveaway."

"Altar boy," he admitted.

She looked up at him, and gifted him with the big Bambi eyes.

"Winston gives me the same look when he wants a biscuit. Do you want one?" he asked. Winston woofed his disapproval as Mrs. Roberts had made the biscuits just for him. "For the rest of the day, you will sit quietly and familiarize yourself with requirements necessary to obtain the privilege of driving in New York State. Tomorrow, I will take you to the Motor Vehicle Office and then the bank during our lunch hour."

"Is that a date, Agent Blake?" she cooed. "Will you be buying me lunch?"

He blinked at her, once, twice, three times and said nothing. Was she serious? Was he supposed to buy her lunch? He put two months' deposit down on an apartment for her because living in a van had disturbed his sensibilities (Plus it had flared up a whole mental chorus of 'If she gets killed or mugged because she's living in the van, it will be ALL YOUR FAULT, BLAKE. ALL YOUR FAULT! Because you could help her and you didn't do it!') Or was she joking? If it was Phil or John, they would have winked or done something so he'd know. However, Mary Sue of the multiple fake ids was not so forthcoming.

"Sitting down and reading!" She loudly announced.

If Skye had looked up, she would have witnessed her very own miracle. Felix Blake cracked a slight smile. He limped over to his desk, reviewed the various get-well cards (including one from Sitwell that he'd need inspected by the lab to confirm that there were no contact poisons on it) and then he attacked.

"And Mary Sue? I'll be giving you pop questions during the day. For example, there is a van, very similar to yours. The turn and brake signals have failed, no doubt because the driver, who is driving illegally and without insurance, hasn't gotten it legally inspected in five years as she's been busy printing off fake inspection stickers."

Skye looked horrified that he had managed to find out that information on her.

"My God, you're good," she admitted.

"That's why I'm in data analysis. Now, however, the driver holds her hand like this," he extended his hand upward. "What is she signifying?"

"Sweet Jesus, please don't let that be Agent Blake behind me? As he'll pull me out of the car and throw me on the hood if he catches me driving illegally?" She widely smiled at him.

He blinked at her and her cocksure, snarky attitude Skye personality shriveled into Mary Sue who had thoroughly traumatized by nuns.

"I think this proves that you need to sit down and study," he stated.

* * *

Jemma Simmons walked back to her office after the successful party, but she was stopped by John Garrett. He carefully blocked Fitz and leaned to her ear, "We need to talk. How about a bike ride and some ice cream? Seven?"

"Is that a date?" she asked.

"No, Blake's got a meeting with Tim as it's Monday and Phil's got plans. I want to talk to you in private. According to the Sacred Schedule of Slowly Seducing Simmons, there are no solo dates for a few more months."

"Please don't tell me that the real name of the calendar," she pleaded.

"NO, I'm just in the mood to alliterate today," he explained with a broad smile.

"It is," he admitted. "I want to hash something out with you and it would be easier if it was just the two of us."

* * *

MONDAY NIGHT

"Heading out for a nice long bike ride, call me if you need me," Garrett announced. "I'll probably be home after you're done with Tim."

Felix nodded, but then he growled as he explored the refrigerator. "Did you drink all the beer?"

"There's some behind the arugula," Garrett reminded him. "You know how Phil is when he buys groceries. He gets all this exotic stuff that he puts here and there in the fridge and he hides the essentials, cheese, beer, milk and eggs."

"I'll try not to dislocate my hip again so I can grocery shop," sniped Felix. "Or perhaps you can learn to follow a grocery list and not to deviate from it. Seriously, what were you thinking, three cases of Dr. Pepper?"

"I'm from Texas, it's a national drink," protested Garrett. "It was on sale."

"Texas is not a nation," was Felix's retort.

* * *

John Garrett knocked on the door, and Jemma opened the door. She was wearing her new gear and an approving Garrett smiled.

"It's nice night, so do you mind heading to Connecticut?"

"For ice cream?" she repeated as it seemed to be an awfully long ride for ice cream. "We're heading to Connecticut?"

"I want to take a ride, maybe break the speed limit a few times," he admitted. He handed her an ear piece, "If you wear this, we can chat."

She agreed, and she found it easier to get onto Garrett's bike than she had anticipated, then she realized it wasn't Garrett's bike as the seat color was different, as was the very 'fit' of it. "Did you borrow Felix's bike?" she asked.

"He asked me to take his Jeep and his bike out for a spin while he can't use them. He can't drive standard for a bit and he certainly can't hop on his bike," Garrett explained.

"And as a true friend, you wanted to ensure that his transportation remained in workable condition for when he's able to use them again. That's a true friend for you," Jemma quipped.

John Garrett turned and made a horrid face at her.

" _Please_. I've been dying to try this bad boy out. I promised him no scratches, no dings, no dents and no speeding tickets," Garrett informed her. "Which means, I can't get caught breaking the speed limit. You ready to ride?"

"Yes," she assured him.

He put on his helmet and they were off. She was more comfortable with riding pillion, and he was, his protestations to the contrary, a very serious, very safe driver. He gave her plenty of warning before he turned, before he braked and before he hit the accelerator. She learned how to lean into the turn, and more importantly, how not to, and she found the experience absolutely exhilarating. At last, she understood why John and Felix had bikes.

"We're thinking if you like riding, you should take a Motorcycle Safety Fundamentals course," John informed her while they were riding down the highway. "You can take it online."

"Do you all want me to take it? Or just Felix," she asked.

"All of us, actually. Including Winston as he worries so," John assured her. "We'll be there in a few minutes."

He pulled into the ice cream shop and it was surprisingly busy. There was a private table in the back that had a reserved sign on it, and he gestured toward it.

"That's our spot," he explained. She looked at him as she was puzzled.

"I wanted to talk to you in private, but not so private that you can make a scene," he explained. "I've got the keys and you've got a long walk back home if you storm off."

The waiter showed up and John ordered an Earthquake Sunday, after asking Jemma what flavors ice cream she liked best. "Throw in a Dr. Pepper and what do you want to drink?" John asked even as he pulled out his wallet to pay.

"You're making me nervous," she admitted after she ordered and the waiter flitted off.

"Don't be," he stated. "Did Skye mentioned anything to you about how… appreciative… she was about me working on the van?"

He looked at her and said nothing more. He was supporting his head on his hand and he looked serious.

"Is this about the van?" Jemma asked. "Or how she wanted to thank you?"

"Second," he slowly admitted. "She told you?"

"Yes," was her succinct answer.

"And?" he prompted. "What did she tell you?"

"That she doesn't possess any experience with people being nice to her and that she had offered you payment, a rather personal payment and you pretended not to understand what she was proposing. She was quite upset over it, because we're friends, but she didn't know how else to pay you back because… she's not used to having people helping her out without expecting a specific type of compensation."

John Garrett exhaled slowly and his shoulders slumped in relief.

"You were nervous about my reaction?" Simmons asked. "I trust you both."

"I'm an asshole, but I don't do shit like that," John informed her. "She's gotten that shit out of her head, right? I don't have to worry about her stripping while Felix is trapped in his office? Or her trying something with Phil? The objective was to get her into a safe place to live, not for us to get laid."

"No," Jemma stated. "I think she still believes that she needs to pay you three back, but I'm pretty comfortable that she's not repeating the offer. I think her thanks might be limited to baking you a cake."

"Do you think it will create any awkwardness between…?" He stopped.

"Between you two? No," she said.

"No, it will be awkward between Blue Sky and me for a bit, but I'll pretend that I'm clueless, and it'll pass. I was more worried about us, because it's awkward enough with us," he said.

She just looked at him, and he quirked a smile.

"What? Do you think Phil is the heartfelt one?"

"You're just a man of many surprises," she admitted.

"Good," John agreed. He pulled back and smiled in pure childish delight at the waiter who brought over a literal mountain of ice cream.

"What is that monstrosity?" Jemma asked, when the waiter dropped it with a mighty thud on the table.

"Eights scoops of ice cream and it's topped with chocolate fudge, hot fudge, butterscotch, hot caramel, strawberry, pineapple jam, marshmallow, mixed almonds, whipped cream and cherries," John explained as he handed her a spoon.

"Oh my good God," she stated.

"Live a little," he insisted. "This is something I do once, twice, three times a year."

They worked on it for a bit in silence, and then Garrett spoke again. "I have another matter to discuss with you. This is something that I thought I should be the one to discuss with you, as well, Phil is too much of a gentleman and Felix would be mortified to have this conversation with you."

Simmons swallowed her ice cream and she blushed as she looked at John.

"Do you think I don't know?" Simmons softly asked.

"To be clear, what do you think that I hope you don't know?"

"That my favorite trio of Kinsey Twos aren't chaste," she informed him.

"Do you expect that we should be?" he asked.

"No," she insisted.

"Does the thought make you uncomfortable?" John continued. "I want to know, and I hope you'll be honest."

She focused on her ice cream, wanting to pull her thoughts together and John Garrett watched her for a very long time.

"It does, doesn't it? I'll tell them, and we'll stop," he gently assured her. "Just tell me what disturbs you? It's not the physical act, because you're friendly with Fitz, and I know you tried to set him up with Trip today. I'll work on Trip, too as I think they'd be a cute couple. Now tell me, what's bothering you, so I can explain your discomfort with the boys, as you know Blake will worry and Phil will fuss."

"It's just…. This entire farce is supposed to end up with me with one of you. That there will be babies and more babies in my future," Jemma softly admitted.

"Hey. We don't think of you as breeding stock, we see you as an absolutely brilliant scientist who is far smarter than we are. If after six months you decide none of us are the right guy, it will be fine with us. We'll thank you for the fun memories, the surgical scars and the laughs," Garrett was radiating his unique mixture of intensity and bemused sincerity. "We're dating, getting to know each other, and we'll see where it goes."

"It's just, I know you three are 'together'," she explained as she stressed the word. "When I dated… he cheated on me with a lot of people… especially as I wouldn't…put out… until I felt comfortable."

"Do you feel that we're… cheating… on you?" he asked. Garrett was almost Coulson sincere, she realized.

"No…. yes… no… I feel like I'm the other woman," she explained. "You three have got this relationship, it seems to work very well for you, and here I am, barging in, and disrupting everything and maiming and scarring you in the process."

John Garrett looked at her and then put his head in his hands. "Dear God, I wish Phil was here. He's the sensitive one, I'm just the plucky, comic relief. However, thank you God, for not having Blake here as he'd be in the fetal position."

He didn't say anything more for a bit, and then he put his hand on hers.

"Don't sell yourself short. Our odd little relationship, really, is a tourniquet of codependency for three old men who were quite happy to retreat into themselves, lick their war wounds and hide. You came into our lives, blazing, and vivacious, and honestly, utterly bodacious, and bowled the three of us over ass over tit."

"I'll never live that down," she moaned. "Never!"

"Nope!" Garrett joyfully assured her. "Whether you like it or not, you, simply by being you, has seriously affected our odd little relationship. Felix is talking more, he's actively engaging with other people, not just you, but Fitz and that crazy Blue Skies. Phil feels more human that he has since they brought him back."

"And what about you?" She asked.

"I have more people I need to protect," he admitted. "But I can rest easier at night knowing that if anything happens to me, if my cybernetic parts fail, Phil and Felix will have people that will care for them."

There was a glimmer in his eyes and Simmons leaned towards him, "John, are your parts failing?"

He didn't answer, instead he focused on the melting ice cream, which was answer enough.


	26. The Politics of Frickle Frackle

AN - thank you to LachesisGrimm

* * *

John Garrett continued to eat a literal mountain of ice cream and Jemma tried again to broach the painful subject. Her voice was quite soft when she asked, "Do they know?"

They being Phil and Felix, naturally.

He nodded and put down his spoon. "They even know how to jumpstart me." Coquettish smile, matched with mischievous, lively blue eyes that danced and sparkled with true amusement. (How could eyes that showed so much life belong to a man who was dying?) "My hardware, not my…"

Fortunately, she had a spoonful of ice cream ready and she placed it in his mouth. He sucked it with almost pornographic relish, and with she shook her head. When he was done, after an obscenely long time, he took a clean spoon, scooped up some ice cream with assorted toppings and dutifully presented it to her. She ate it daintily and he smiled.

"Extra spoons, I have to remember to tip him." He laughed even as he served her another spoonful. "Come now, life's short. Dessert first."

They ate in the silence for a bit, and then he pounced, "So what else is bothering you?"

"Everything's fine," she lied.

He snorted his belief, and she glared at him. Naturally, John Garrett was unaffected by Jemma's Stern Disapproval as it was akin to a death glare from a Koala Bear.

"Look, I understand, that of this unholy trio, I'm considered the dumb one. Blake's overclocked mind is probably the only one that might be able to keep pace with yours, Phil is Phil, and I'm the dumb one in the group."

"No, you're the dangerous one," she protested. "You're the goofy, charming one which fools everyone into not realizing how astute you truly are."

Fake disappointed grimace.

"You read my last performance appraisal didn't you? Darn Blue Skies. So, you're unhappy, you're in this again your will, what else is bothering you? You can talk to us, express your concerns. We won't get mad, and I know Felix will deeply appreciate any instruction you give him."

Garrett fondly smiled at Felix's oddities, and then his smile faded. Instead he quirked one eyebrow and stared at her.

"You really don't feel comfortable talking to us, why?" he softly asked, his voice a far cry from his usual deafening volume. When she failed to answer, his eyes took on a faraway look as he repeated parts of their earlier conversation. "You didn't mention that bit… you feel like you're the other woman… Wait… so you're scared of us because we physically outnumber you? So you won't voice your displeasure… or you feel you can't? You ** _do_** know that you hold all the cards in this poker game right? You tell us to jump, we jump. You tell us to strip, we'll run to the bathroom to disrobe and run out wearing large bath towels. We are old men, after all."

"I don't hold any cards in this poker game," she protested. "There's three of you, all older, all my superiors. You make all the decisions, I just come along for the ride and pray that I'll have my dignity when it's over."

John Garrett's face fell, and he looked sincerely hurt by her words.

"You don't report to any of us," protested Garrett. "You're not along for the ride, you're driving this bus of insanity, Simmons."

"You planned my social calendar out," she whined, hating herself for confessing any weakness to Garrett. "For a whole month. Phil's planned our solo date already."

"You could have turned any of them down," he reminded her. "We thought that it might be beneficial… if the three of us took you out so you could get to know us outside the company before it was one and one interaction. Blake proposed that it would be easier for you because if it was the four of us together, you'd be less likely to think we were gonna get fresh and hands on. It seemed reasonable, so we agreed to it. And Phil needed to make reservations, early, for that particular restaurant. It's impossible to get into it unless you make reservations months in advance."

"I never got any input," she protested.

"We gave you a questionnaire. Blake was up for thirty six hours straight trying to analyze your questionnaire using every analysis and array he knew, and he pulled a complete blank. I thought he was close to a mental meltdown, because he couldn't even pull a remote probability of what you enjoyed from the data. We wondered if you didn't have a strong opinion on anything, which seemed doubtful, or that you wanted us to work for it and show you our creativity, which is something we've all experienced previously. So we're pulling out all the stops and doing whatever we can think to do on these outings, because you haven't told us what we need to do. In this rodeo, Felix isn't in the only one that needs instructions."

"You three have strategy meetings about me!" The unbelievable horror greatly disturbed her. She imagined how the boys conferenced, drunk coffee and discussed her every reaction! No doubt Felix had a scatter graph plotted AND printed, plus MS-Project fired up on his laptop.

"Like you don't sit there and chat with Fitz and Hacker Girl about us," was Garrett's immediate response. He smiled and laughed, while really irked Simmons.

"I'm not sleeping with them, am I? You don't think I worry that when I finally select a baby daddy that he'll be comparing me carnally to his two best friends? That when I'm up the duff, fucking huge, lying next to him, our baby kicking me so hard that I can't sleep, that I won't know that he'll be thinking how Blake kissed better than me, that Coulson was more cosmopolitan in his kinks or that you were better at…."

She put her hands over her mouth in a failed (and far too late) attempt to prevent herself from voicing her distress, but Thank God, she refrained from telling Garrett that her imaginary baby daddy thought that his other lovers were far better at oral sex than she was.

Garrett turned pale and then abruptly stood up. He took out his wallet, threw down a fifty… a fifty… and nodded his head.

"Outside, now." His voice was quite soft, but there was no other option for Simmons, except to vacate the room. "We're leaving now."

* * *

When they were outside, she started to shake and didn't stop.

Garrett stopped walking when they reached a bench, and he quietly stated, "I'm not angry at what you said. I'm glad you finally informed me of what is bothering you. However, I'm unhappy that you're shaking in fear right now because there's no reason for that. I'd like you to sit down next to me. Please"

He settled on the park bench and looked up to her, "Jemma, please. Sit next to me. Of course, you can stand if you want to do so, but I'd like to chat. In private."

Slowly, regretfully, she sat next to him, and he carefully placed his arm around her. Just so.

"Let's make deal. I'll tell the boys that you are uncomfortable with the fact that we are having sex during our courtship. It will stop," he assured her.

"Courtship?" she wasn't sure if she should weep or laugh at how John used that archaic word to describe the crazy train known as her life, and she was in true danger of hysterical tears.

"Courtship," he repeated. "In exchange, you will actually open your mouth and voice your opinion. We will listen to you. Because right now, the three of us are throwing things at the wall and hoping it sticks."

"I told Blake that I didn't want him to buy my gear and he did it anyway," she reminded him. "You're **_not_** listening to me."

"Mandatory disclaimer, your protestations against Blake's obsessive need for safety will be not be heeded. Sorry, my Beautiful Brainiac, it just ain't happening. When Blake gets like that, there is nothing except hang on for the ride."

"I could have paid for it," she protested. "I should have bought it."

"You have NOT been able to afford a customized Skull suit and you would have scrimp on your gear. If God forbid, you had gotten hurt, Felix would spiral into a whirlwind of woe because he'd blame himself. That issue closed, on to the next; No sex for us, I'm rather surprised that it disturbs you so badly. I mean, it's just sex for us, so we can stop at any time, and we're not asking or expecting that you will restrict your extracurricular activities in anyway. We won't ask you to not have sex. If you find a cute guy or girl, go ahead! Mazel Tov! If you two click and you can have a healthy baby, we'll give you away at your wedding. However, unless you give permission otherwise, the three of us will cease and desist all frickle frackle."

"I can't ask that of you three," she tiredly insisted. She just **_couldn't_** , and why didn't he realize that?

"You're not asking. We're doing it, I mean, we're ceasing it," Garrett informed her. "It's just sex."

"It's **_not_** ," she protested.

"It is." He nodded his head so that was end of that discussion for him.

She wanted to shake him, inform him that he was blind, because their sex was obviously more than sex. Their relationship was Coulson's touchstone to his supposedly lost humanity, Blake's stabilizing force both mentally and emotionally, and another way that a dying Garrett drank from life by the bucketful. (And how could that overwhelming force of nature be DYING? And how would Garrett's death affect the remainder of Jemma Simmons' Band of Lost Boys?) She couldn't be responsible for destabilizing that bond because the three of them would implode.

"Now, Jemma, you need to tell all three of us your concerns, your fears and how we can help you," Garrett gently told her. "Where do you feel safe enough to have this conversation? You'll have to lead it, and we'll listen."

"I don't know," she softly admitted.

"Would Felix's apartment be the right spot? It's a lot bigger than Coulson's, and we could sit at the dining room table," he suggested. "I mean, I'm assuming you don't want us in your apartment."

The sheer amount of bodies, three men, plus a very large dog who believed he was human, add Fitz and Skye who would naturally crash their meeting (only because they cared! CARED!) Plus Jemma in her small flat caused her unexpected claustrophobia.

"I guess Felix's apartment is fine," she decided.

"Next Group Date Night was scheduled for tomorrow night. Is it still good for you?" Garrett asked. "You can discuss your concerns then. I'll let the guys know that we'll be talking. Is that ok? Should I let them know what we'll be discussing?"

"Yes, I guess."

"Simmons, you're complaining that you feel powerless in this cluster. Permit yourself to be empowered. Make the decision, tell me what you want me to do, what you want me to say."

For the longest time she pondered and finally Garrett threw her a line.

"I don't want to sit here all night as the vampire mosquitos are after my sweet, sweet blood. How's this, 'Simmons would like a chance to have a serious discussion about where this is going. We're doing it tomorrow night.'?"

She nodded her head as Garett had given her the easy way out.

"Any other questions?" he asked.

"How much did the suit cost?"

"You need to learn something else about Felix. He'll help you get your finances in order, but he'll never talk about his personal finances. I have no idea how much your gear was if he picked up the cost. I'm assuming at least high four figures based on the price list I saw. That wasn't the latest and greatest either, which is what he got you."

"WHAT?" She gasped.

"His finances are in order, though I no idea how much he has. He bought Nikki this fucking rock when they got engaged. I don't think you're a gold digger, but if you are, you'll regret it. Like Nikki learned." After that nerve wracking threat, John Garrett smiled the sweet, innocent smile of the angels.

"What did you do?" Jemma softly asked.

"Statute of limitations has not expired, and I invoke the 5th Amendment against self-incrimination. But off the record, it was really fucking awesome." He laughed a loud laugh, and turned to smile at her. "It was really divine retribution. Even Phil was impressed. Horrified, but really impressed."

"Such a good boy," she cooed.

"Shall I take you home now?" he asked.

Simmons nodded, and he squeezed her shoulder.

"Promise that the boys won't be mad," Garrett assured her.

"Pinky swear?" she asked, as it was something that she had learned from watching Skye.

He held out his large hand, crooked out his pinky and winked at her, even as Jemma Simmons secretly vowed to find a way to save his life. Their pinkies entwined even as he smiled at her.

"Trust us, Simmons. We will take care of you," he promised. "But you have to tell us how to do it."

* * *

"So… tell me about Simmons," Tim asked Felix as their session came to a close.

"I was wondering when you'd get to her," Felix quipped. He took a long sip of beer and he briefly permitted himself a small smile. "She's… really… nice."

"More," Tim prompted. "She seemed nice when I met her. Pretty. British, on those two conditions alone, I approve, but I need more information on her."

"We've actually talked… real conversations, Tim. I told her that I need instructions and prompts. She hasn't given me any… so maybe… I'm doing it right? I am putting a great deal of effort into doing it right this time. Plus Winston approves of her, that's very high praise," Blake admitted, while he petted Winston.

"No higher praise," admitted Tim as he was owned by a bulldog. "What's her opinion on the three of you?"

"Seems ok with it, hasn't said anything to the contrary," Felix began before he saw Tim's face. "What? What did I say?"

"Lad, I'm hearing 'Nearer My God to Thee'," Tim groaned. "Man the lifeboats, Felix."

"No, no, she knows. Everything. Hasn't said anything. Nicolette was always making comments even though nothing was happening between the three of us at that time. Jemma's cool with it," Felix nervously blurted. "Tim, don't look at me like that. I'll ask her to come to a therapy session and you'll see. She's ok with it all. I mean, she's even offered to come with me to a therapy session and she offered it, completely on her own, with no prompting from me."

Tim swallowed one, twice and then Felix continued, "I asked her, to tell me what I need to do. To prompt me, to guide me…. She **_promised_**. She promised, Tim, she fucking promised, so if she had any issues, she'd know she could tell me, because she **_promised_**."

"Felix," barked Tim. Felix looked his way, warily. In a softer tone, Tim asked, "Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"

"You, because she's not Nicolette. The bitch promised to help me, instead she mind-fucked me. Jemma isn't like that, because she'd tell me. She tell us immediately if she had any issues because she's not a game player. She's sincere and she's sweet and she promised. She and Phil will be fantastic together."

Tim's eyes blinked quickly. "She's already decided on Phil? That was quicker than I anticipated."

"He's the only logical choice of three of us. John's long term health is uncertain, I'm too high-maintenance to be a good choice, so Phil."

Really, it was the adult decision, to accept what he could never have.

"Did she decide on this already? Or did you just decide it for her?" Tim asked. He glowered, and his tone was disapproving.

"Don't make it sound like that. She's very intelligent and she has all the power in this relationship. It's her decision, and we just do whatever she wants," Felix continued. "She yells, 'jump', we ask 'How high?" in midair."

The two men looked at each other and Tim swallowed once, twice three times. "Can you give me an example of Simmons expressing her needs in this relationship?"

"I can't remember it happening, even the slightest hint," Felix admitted. "I've been reviewing everything and…" He tapped his temple with his right fingers. "She hasn't, but she promised, so that means, we're doing everything right for once. All three of us, are doing everything one hundred percent perfect for the first time ever in our lives, because she fucking promised me, Tim, that she'd tell me. I…trusted… her…"

Tim Dugan noticed how Blake had clarified his statement. Not, I trust her, but instead, I trusted her. Past Tense, because Felix Blake realized something was wrong.

"Your left arm, lad. You're 'tic'ing. Since I first mentioned Simmons," a sympathetic Tim stated.

"There's something wrong," Felix admitted. "She's just too quiet. I wanted to be wrong, that it's Flakey Blakey making an appearance because he has to ruin everything with his constant hysterical fears, but she's too quiet."

"She might be scared of offering her opinion," Tim offered. "Give her a safe place so she can express herself."

"She's not scared of me, is she? I mean, we talk, she sends me funny emails at all hours," protested Felix. "It's almost… like….we're… friends."

"You know that something's off. You can sense it, Felix. Find a place that she feels safe, and most importantly, let her lead the conversation with three of you."

Felix said nothing, and Tim let him have the time he needed to collect this thoughts.

"I want to have a normal relationship, is that so bad? There doesn't have to be sex, I just want some normalcy." Felix admitted. "Though truth demands that Simmons is way out of my class range."

"They all are. That's why they're the fairer sex. How's your head?"

"Screwed on straight. Call you if I need you," Blake stated, as that was their typical signoff for their sessions. "I'll call you after Simmons speaks to us."

"Don't take everything she says to heart," Tim reminded Blake. "She's struggling with this and may not vocalize her feelings correctly."

* * *

Phil Coulson walked to the box office, and smiled at the cashier, "Any standing room only tickets?" he asked.

"Haven't seen you in a while, Phil," the cashier commented. "You're in luck. Got some orchestra seats available on the floor. Heathens aren't interested in classical music."

He opened his wallet, and the cashier slid the ticket to him. "No charge, Phil. Just glad you're back."

"Which precinct?" Phil asked, as free tickets meant Joey had parking tickets that needed to be handled.

"No tickets. Just getting karma points," the cashier chirped. "Besides, it is great that you're back."

* * *

An aisle seat ticket that offered perfect view of the cello section. No one sat next to him, so he was able to stretch out, and **_experience_**. For the first time in far too long, he was able to listen to the music without pain. He closed his eyes to focus on the music.

_"Who is she?" Audrey asked while they danced at the Richmond._

_"Who?" He asked, even as he wondered why this felt so right but his soul screamed that it was wrong._

_"The girl you're seeing," she teased. "Should I be jealous?"_

_"No," he admitted. "She's not you."_

_"But she's eased your heartache," Audrey reminded him._

_"You've been watching," he teased. "She makes me laugh because I never know what she's gonna do next. The Bowling Ball Bloodbath! How much have you seen?"_

_"You, Blake and Garrett. My, My, My. I do declare that I am having my own personal summa," she said, completed with fake Scarlett O'Hara accent. "Garrett always made me laugh, but I always believed that Blake was so stern and regimented."_

_"That bit started after you died," he assured her. "You know that right?"_

_"I know. Regardless of Nicolette's proclamations and character assassinations, I knew you three were just tight friends," she admitted. "These days, I love watching you three heckle each other, and the afterhours entertainment, so racy. You boys take good care of each other in all the important ways."_

_He snorted._

_"Jemma… she's awfully quiet when you four are together," Audrey gently hinted. "Doesn't express her opinion, does she?"_

_"Are you telling me something?" He asked his private specter. He twirled her and quickly pulled her back into his arms._

_"I'm just voicing what your subconscious has been telling you, Phil. Quick, listen to_ _**it** _ _, Phil, I have to go. Love you, and I approve. All of it. Love you. You made me so happy. Don't stay in mourning for me. Carpe Diem!"_

_"Aud?" he asked even as she slipped from his arms. "AUDREY!"_

_A faint, "Most importantly, let her talk!" was the last he heard._

His head jerked, hard, waking him from his sleep and realized that he had fallen asleep. For only a few minutes, but he couldn't focus on the music, instead, he concentrated on what Audrey had said.

_"Jemma… she's awfully quiet when you four are together," Audrey gently hinted. "Doesn't express her opinion, does she?"_

_"Are you telling me something?" He asked his private specter. He twirled her and quickly pulled her back into his arms._

_"I'm just voicing what your subconscious has been telling you, Phil. Quick, listen to_ _**it."** _

Jemma Simmons. Very quiet except when she wasn't, and… " _Most importantly, let her talk!"_ echoed in his mind.

"She's not telling us what she wants from us," he whispered. "She's too scared."

He left the concert at a fast pace, as he needed to speak with the boys.

* * *

John Garrett bounded to his apartment that he shared with Blake. He knocked a syncopated rhythm which the alarm system recognized as 'Friend – Garrett', and then put his keys into the lock. He need not have bothered as Phil Coulson opened the door before he could turn the keys.

"Glad you're here, we're having a conference," Phil tersely stated.

Garrett nodded and walked into the kitchen, where there were cigarettes (Blake was smoking again, which meant he was really rattled, and that he had hidden a pack on Garrett when he had last gone cold turkey), two beers and two half eaten sandwiches. (Phil's work, as naan sandwiches was a Phil sandwich, as Blake was a traditionalist when it came to bread.) Winston had his head in Felix's lap and Felix was compulsively stroking Winston with his left hand. (Blake was tic-ing so between the smoking and the tic-ing, something big had happened.)

Which meant….

"Simmons?" Garrett asked.

Blake and Coulson nodded.

"She's not voicing her needs," Coulson explained. "We don't know what she wants."

"I had an informative conversation with her tonight, and she wants to talk to us tomorrow." Garrett then sighed and sat down in the empty chair. "She doesn't feel comfortable voicing what she wants from us, so we need to find someplace that she'll feel comfortable and safe enough to talk to us."

"We can't have this discussion in her lab," protested Blake.

"Are you smoking weed?" Garrett asked. "No, not her lab."

"It's where she feels safest."

"She'll have the meeting here," Garrett informed them.

"What's the agenda?" was Blake's next nonsensical question, but Garrett pitied him and refused to voice the snarky comment that was on the tip of his tongue.

"It's us," Phil stated. "She's concerned about us?"

"Us?" Blake asked, whose mental wheels were spinning hard and throwing cerebral sand everywhere.

"US," Garrett agreed.

"Oh, us?" Phil repeated. He seemed quite confused.

"US?" Blake asked. "What about US? What is the problem with US?"

"Not us, Blake, 'US'," Garrett explained, using his fingers to make quotations around 'US'."

Blake's face fell when he realized what Garrett meant as he quickly protested, "But there is no US."

"It just sex," Phil insisted.

"She seems bothered by that part of US, so I told her that we're stopping," Garrett stated.

"But it's just sex," Blake protested. "It's not like we're making love. It's sex."

"I know, but she thinks it's more, so until we figure out what the issue is, no go," Garrett decreed.

"I don't understand," Felix said. "It's not like we're in love with each other."

"My God, I feel the urge to vomit at the very thought of being in love with either of you," Garrett quipped.

"I don't know, if love means sleeping in the wet spot," Phil offered, before he was walloped by two half-eaten naan sandwiches. "No, no, I'm not in love with either of you two, because that would be just too weird."

"Amen, brother," Felix Blake intoned. "Did I hear amen, Brother Garrett?"

"A-men. AAAAAAAA-MEN," Garrett loudly agreed.


	27. War Council of the Lemmings

WAR COUNCIL

"You'll be in charge tomorrow," Felix informed Phil.

Phil nearly spit his beer through his nose. "Me?" And Phil Coulson was not proud to admit that his voice cracked like he was in the midst of puberty.

"Someone has to keep Garrett under control," Felix tersely explained. "You get to babysit him. You have my permission to muzzle him if necessary."

"Hey! I resemble that remark!" mock protested Garrett.

"See, he can't be trusted," a somber Felix retorted. "You need to be in charge."

"Why me? Why not you?" Phil reasonably asked. God Lord, he was Tony Stark's main babysitter, why add John Garrett to his list of charges? Hadn't he already paid off his karma at a vastly accelerated rate? Did the universe want still more from him?

"Seriously? I won't even answer that," was Blake's disbelieving answer. "If she's feeling…. uncomfortable, the mouth that roared will not be beneficial if we want an honest conversation. Nor the mouth that stutters and stammers and overthinks everything. What am I saying? There's no… we… anymore. None of this plural personal pronouns anymore, not anymore."

"I don't understand," Garrett admitted. "Why can't we …"

"No, no, no. She thinks there's an US, that three of us…frickle frackle the every night. And when the hell did I start using that term to describe sex?" Felix asked.

"You shouldn't use us, if you aren't permitting us to use we," protested Garrett.

It took a moment for the trio to determine if that sentence made grammatical sense, what it said about them when they realized it did, and then Felix valiantly attempted to regain control of the conversation before it went further astray.

"Simmons believe that Phil, you and I are in a committed relationship. She believes that we're in love with each other." His tone was quite dry, leaving no doubt what he thought of THAT.

They were brothers of a different mother yes, but 'in love', never. Ever.

"I admire how he can say that with a straight face," chirped Garrett to an amused, grinning Phil Coulson. "But I have to protest, Pookie Bear, as you never send me flowers. If we were in love, I'd hope you'd send me flowers."

"He never buys me champagne so we can have fun in the Jacuzzi," Phil added. "He knows I'm a cheap date when I'm drunk. Snookums, why don't you ever get me drunk in the Jacuzzi?"

Felix Blake didn't even attempt to hide his annoyance.

"That's got to stop," insisted Felix. "The snark, the witty banter, the sparkling repartee that makes lower agents envious. Why can't you see that you are truly risking fucking up this golden opportunity? She's not gonna pick all three of us, so we can't present ourselves as a buy one, get two free husbands. This is your chance for something **_normal_** , Phil and John. A **_healthy_** relationship with a really nice girl. Don't you think you deserve the opportunity?"

"Are you saying that our relationship, such as it is, which is most assuredly not one of a committed, loving relationship, isn't healthy?" Phil asked, even as he struggled to hide the pork rinds (Garrett's favorites) and the fully loaded Potato chips (His personal favorites).

"No, it's a bond of codependency, we're literally lemmings skipping over the cliff," Felix snapped. "When's the last time you dated? And don't mention Simmons."

"My last date was with Audrey," Phil stated with a quiet, wounded dignity. "And it's been two years, ten months and seventeen days since my final date with Audrey because, as you are well aware, she died in the Battle of New York. I was hoping to take her shopping for a ring, but… instead an alien with daddy issues destroyed most of Manhattan in a temper tantrum."

He pursed his lips and looked away from Garrett and Blake, willing himself to compose himself.

"We all know that Nicolette left me, two and a half years ago, on the very day I asked if we could… because we hadn't …frickle frackle in over four months, not since I got hurt and I needed to be physically close to her again. I think we can also say, that I had a full meltdown and I am still not the man I was before New York. John, when is the last time, you've dated?"

"There's very few women that want to bed a man that looks like me," a serious John Garrett slowly admitted. "Between the scars, the burns and the various non-standard attachments, it has been a very long time for me. An obscenely long time."

"So, because no one was beating down our doors, wanting to have sex with us, we hooked up. For two and half years, Phil. What do you think Simmons notices when she sees the three of us together, John? The sniping, the snarking, the obvious comradery?" Felix asked. "She had a boyfriend that cheated on her, and now she has to deal with the three of us, she must be…"

"She mentioned to me that she felt like the other woman in our relationship," John slowly admitted.

"John, don't you think you should have shared that with the class?" Phil sternly asked. "Is there anything else you should have shared, Mr. Garrett?"

"I just got back from talking to her, Phil. Give me a second, and I'll give you the bullet points," Garrett retorted. "She feels powerless in this odd relationship, that we had scheduled her life away."

"She could have refused," Blake protested.

"She doesn't feel like she has the power to refuse. Let's face it, we're all older than her, and we outrank her, plus the fact that there are three of us," Phil announced. "She needs reassurance that she could tell us to fuck off, and we wouldn't do anything in retaliation, either personally or workwise."

"She feels like she's the baby maker in this," Garrett stated. "That she's supposed to put a bag on her head and be used to repopulate Earth."

The two other men loudly protested even while Garrett promised them that he had reassured her that's not how they felt about her, that they respected her for her brain and her talent, and they didn't think of her as merely a baby maker.

"Did she believe you?" Phil asked.

"I don't think so," Garrett slowly admitted. "She's worried that when she chooses a baby daddy, that he'll compare her sexually to his two best friends. And that he will find her lacking."

The previous outburst paled in comparison to Phil's loud assertions that it would never happen. Felix Blake said nothing, instead he withdrew into himself.

"Blake?" Garrett asked. "You're not saying anything. I know you don't agree with what she said, but you're not saying anything."

"I know that our main concern is Simmons in this insanity," he slowly stated. "And she is my main worry and it seems that our best efforts have failed at providing her with much needed reassurance and support. I would never compare her to you or to Phil if she and I…. ever took that step. If I was ever lucky enough that she desired to take that step with me."

He crossed his arms and then said nothing. His shoulders were tensed, and his arms were locked, so he wouldn't twitch. John and Phil exchanged concerned glances and John nodded at Phil to take the lead.

"Come on, Blake. You've just shut down on us," Phil prompted.

"I asked her to tell me if she had problems, to let me know. I asked her," Blake slowly stated. "She promised. I… haven't let anyone… in as far as her… in such a long time, and I asked her…to tell me if she had any concerns…. and I hoped… and… I trusted…her when she said that she would. Now, I understand that she has the right not to tell me anything. I can't force her to do that, she has to decide to confide in me."

Garrett was about to chime in with a comment, but with a quick, savage gesture from Phil, he stopped.

"Tim says… part of my problem connecting with people is that I have a wall. A very thick wall, which… and that… I need to…" He stopped, mouthed silently for a bit as though searching for the correct words, and then continued, "I… haven't permitted myself to be … that vulnerable in a while. Not since the day I begged Nicolette if we could have sex. And we all know how well that betrayal went. And damn it, Simmons didn't betray me, not like Nikki did, because there's **_nothing_** between the two of us. There is no ring, no wedding plans, no church date booked."

"It's not you, Jemma's just really scared, and overwhelmed," Phil protested.

"I know that, **_logically_**." It was the God's honest truth. Didn't mean it lessened the pain any, because he had tentatively put her in the 'friend' category of which there were only a few chosen souls. He had hesitantly opened himself up to her, and she had confided in GARRETT. Which was her right, and her choice and at least she was comfortable talking to someone! "It just proves that we need to sever this relationship of ours. Whatever the fuck you want to call it, it's over. The codependency, the sex, the cuddling, the beating up of people that are mean to me, Garrett. It was fine when it was just the three of us, in our cozy cube of cossetting codependency. And it didn't affect anyone else, but now it is, so it has to stop."

"Phil?" Garrett questioned. "Blake's right. Simmons deserves far better than dealing with us and our weird relationship."

"She deserves better, but I don't like the fact that this is damaging our friendship."

"It's not," protested Garrett. "It's just making us realize that this isn't healthy, so we can get our friendship back on track. Do you want me to move out, Felix? I can get a room at the barracks. Maybe Max's mom has another room?"

Felix pondered for a bit, and then he looked at his crutches, thought of his difficulties of handling the most basic of household responsibilities.

"Phil? Do you think it would be problematic if Garrett stays until I'm able to bear weight? I can't do laundry and I can't drive? Winston needs a chance to run at least once a day?" Felix asked. "Speaking of which, I need you to drive me to the bank and Department of Motor Vehicles tomorrow during lunch."

Garrett nodded his head.

"No, I think she'd understand, and she'd be ok with it. I mean, she did cripple you after all, so she has to make reasonable allowances," Phil decided. "Now, we just have to figure out to make her feel comfortable and secure enough to actually voice her opinion tomorrow night."

"Felix? Do you think maybe you could do an impromptu guitar concert for her?" Garrett asked. "You know, no suits, no ties. Short sleeves shirts."

"Does that include you?" Phil quipped.

"No more of that," Felix verbally smacked down Phil who quickly nodded his head in agreement.

"Jeans, whatever we can get Felix into, and tell her to pick where we're getting dinner. You can pretend that you're practicing guitar, give her a little concert, we can listen, eat and then talk?" Phil asked. "Equally spaced apart."

"Sounds… non-threatening," Felix admitted.

"Like a Sunday School picnic," Garrett which caused Phil and Felix to groan.

"John, you're from Texas. They wear guns to Sunday School Picnics," Phil reminded Garrett.

"So tomorrow night, we let her talk, or not, but if she does decide to talk, we will not interrupt her. We will let her speak her mind, and we will not invalidate any of her feelings by protesting or disagreeing," Felix stated. "And yes, I stole that from Tim."

"If you have to steal, steal from the best," Phil easily agreed.

"So," Garrett drawled. "What now? No poker nights, no movie nights?"

"No clue," Felix Blake admitted even while Phil shrugged his shoulders.


	28. A Storgic Kind of Love

MONDAY NIGHT

"How was biking with Garrett?" Fitz asked.

Jemma Simmons didn't answer, as she carefully placed her far too expensive helmet in a safe place. That done, she removed her jacket, pants and then her boots, which required Fitz's assistance. She should have realized that Fitz had an ulterior motive as he closely examined her leather jacket.

"I really want to look at the design of these one day when you're not wearing them," he admitted. "Lot of technology here with the mini airbags, and it's very smoothly done."

"Very expensive gear," she nervously admitted.

"How did you afford it?" He asked. "Did you get a raise? Get bumped up a level or four and you spent the bonus on gear? Why didn't I get bumped up, too?"

"Blake bought it for me," was her reluctant confession. "I didn't pay for any of it."

"Does he wear this too?" Fitz asked.

"No, his gear is more basic."

"So he ensured that you are safe when you ride. I can respect that." Fitz tilted his head and stared at her. "Spill it," he finally ordered. "You're upset about something."

"I am having a serious conversation with them tomorrow night," she admitted.

"About what?" he asked.

"Them… that…them… me…." she explained. "Us. We?"

Fortunately, Fitz had years of experience with Simmons, and he was fluent in Simmons-speak. So instead of commenting, he hugged her as he knew that she needed emotional support. "Come on, let's watch Dr. Who."

"Seven?" she asked, as Fitz was partial to Sylvester McCoy.

He nodded.

TUESDAY MORNING

"You ok?" a sitting Blake asked as he looked up at Garrett. "You look grey."

The older agent's face was a tad grey, or it could be because it was early morning.

"Speaking of grey, you might want to do a touch up," Garrett protested as he futzed with Blake's salt and pepper hair. "You're looking old enough to be Winston's granddaddy."

"I've been greying since I met you and Phil," protested Blake, who still thwatted Garrett's hand away from his head. "However, you do look grey. Do you need a charge?"

"Is that what you old folks call it?" Garrett queried which was his way of not answering at all.

"Stop that, why don't you get dressed," Phil protested as he stepped into the kitchen. "These shoes, Felix?"

Felix nodded, and Phil slid them onto Felix's feet even as a grumbling Garrett left to change into a turtleneck and fatigues.

"He doesn't look good this morning," Felix informed Coulson. "He nearly dropped me last week when he was lifting me so thank you for the help in getting dressed."

"What's has he said?" Coulson asked.

"That I put on weight," dryly commented Felix. "Arm?"

Coulson held out his arm, and Felix grabbed it. "Which I thought was rude. Count of three? One, Two, Three?" As he pulled himself into a standing position, balanced on one foot, Coulson smiled and said nothing.

"Not you too!" Felix protested. "I have enough problems. For example, do you have any idea how hard it is to wear a suit when you're on crutches and you can't weight bear?"

"You could always wear fatigues," suggested Coulson.

"I'm an OCD desk jockey," Blake reminded Coulson as he struggled to tuck in his shirt, one handed. "Not an Avenger."

"Let me help you," Coulson protested. He quickly and competently assured that Felix's shirt was tucked in. "You better belt it yourself."

"Do you think Fitz might be able to help John?" Blake quietly asked as he belted himself in. "What John really needs to do is go offline and reboot. He's charging more, and the charge is lasting less and less. He's not supposed to be running twenty four – seven."

"We nearly lost him during the last time he rebooted, as the system didn't restart until we jump started it," Coulson didn't need to remind Blake of that nightmare. "I have an idea. I'll take over Blake-sitting for a bit. He can stay in my apartment that way he can catch up on his sleep. Maybe that's all he needs?"

The two men doubted it, but refused to give voice to their fears.

"Do you want to talk to Fitz?" Blake asked. "He's brilliant, he might have an idea that they haven't tried yet? I have copies of all his files."

Phil bit his lip, silently debated and then nodded his agreement.

"I'll schedule a meeting for the three of us later today," Coulson decided. "I'll drive you and Skye around during lunch. Garrett doesn't have to drive you around, and maybe he'll stay home."

Blake twisted his lips, as that was a deliberate violation of the Coulson-Blake-Hate-At-Work-Facade and Phil shook his head. "I'll look suitably pissed," he promised. "Horribly put out and that I'm only doing it for Garrett."

The two men gave each other their workface growls and Coulson snickered.

"You have to add the head tilt, as though I'm confusing you," Coulson protested. "It doesn't work without the head tilt."

"And what is Fury's special snowflake doing in my area of the data dungeon?" Blake asked. He added the head tilt, and Phil struggled not to smile. Yet failed horribly.

"Bestowing my royal brilliance on desk jockeys like you," Phil sniped.

"Boys? Must I separate you?" John Garrett asked. Then with a grimace that might have been an attempt at a smile, he waved his hands. "I decided to take a day off. Fight it out among yourselves, boys. Don't tell the Bad Guys that Jonathan Garrett is taking the day off as they might try to overrun the world."

"I'm kicking you out today, Garrett. Phil will Blake-sit, so you go crash at his place," Felix informed Garrett.

"Thanks, Phil. Felix has put on weight…."

"Fuck you," Felix inserted.

"Eating all those macarons that Bright Skies brought over for him," Garrett continued as though Felix hadn't interrupted. "My back is bothering me, plus I need to be awake tonight if Simmons decides to talk with us."

"She certainly likes chatting with you," Blake said. He meant no malice, truly he didn't. But he really wished he hadn't uttered it, as he sounded… petulant. He waved an apology but Garret wasn't having any of it. Naturally.

"Late to work," Blake stated before Garrett could do more than inhale deeply for his long proclamation on Blake's needless anxieties. "Get some sleep."

TUESDAY AFTERNOON

Leo Fitz was quite dismayed (one word for it) when he was told to report to Conference Room Theta. He wasn't sure what he anticipated, but since the invite was from Felix X. Blake, he rather hoped it had nothing to do with Jemma. When he witnessed Coulson standing next to the wall while a somber Felix Blake sat at the head of the table, his heart sunk to his toes.

"Agent Fitz," Coulson welcomed him. "Please take a seat. I hope you understand that what Agent Blake and I are showing you is Classified Confidential and cannot be shared with anyone, including Agent Simmons without our expressed permission."

Fitz was beyond confused, as he possessed no idea why he was in a SHIELD conference room with two senior agents who were quasi group dating his BFF.

"Do you agree?" Blake questioned. "We are in need of your unique skillset for a project."

"I might need Simmons' help," Fitz protested. "We work together."

The two agents looked at each other, and Felix nodded to Phil. "At the moment, we believe this to be a completely mechanical issue. If you feel differently please let us know and we'll decide if she should be brought in," Phil decided.

"Do you agree to our terms, Agent?" Felix asked.

He wasn't being ordered, Garrett wasn't in the room and mechanical…. Not bio chem… but mechanical with these two agents? John Garrett…. Cyborg… was the issue.

"Is this regarding Agent Garrett?" Fitz asked. "I'm willing to help if it's him."

Garrett was a jovial soul, who could match him drink for drink, so yes, Fitz would offer his assistance.

"Due to his odd relationship with Agent Simmons, we're not sure if she should be brought in. We also understand that this puts you in a difficult position, but…" Coulson stopped.

"Let me show you," Blake explained. "Back in 1993, there was a severely wounded SHIELD Agent. He was as good as dead, however, being a cranky bastard, and wanting death on his terms, he submitted to an experimental procedure. Operation DeathLok."

He pulled out a realm of assorted papers, some marked classified, some heavily redacted, some scribbled upon in various ink colors.

"He was never guaranteed that he'd survive the procedure, however he's always been one to beat the odds. The equipment, being a prototype, was also never supposed to last this long. The programmers that worked on this original prototype are no longer able to assist and the current engineering staff at SHIELD has not been able to reverse engineer what the Drs. Singh, Kim and Creighton created. The equipment requires a reboot every so often. It's supposed to be done under controlled circumstances every six months. It was last done two years ago and we had difficulty restarting the cybernetic hardware, " Blake explained.

Fitz examined the paperwork, realized that Blake had organized it as everything was just so with a neat cover page detailing all of Garrett's various surgeries and maintenance.

"When's the last time he did a BIOS update? Firmware?" Fitz asked, as he wanted to confirm the dates.

"2005," Phil admitted.

"Last software patch?" Fitz asked.

"2006. Last defrag was 2009."

Fitz grimaced and the men nodded their heads in tired understanding.

"If this was basic hardware, I'd be your go to guy, but this is sounding more and more like you need Skye's involvement. This system needs a complete hack…" Fitz started expressing his opinion, but stopped when he saw the storm cloud on Blake's face.

"Understand that what you call a system that needs hacking is one of my closest friends," Blake quietly stated. It was quietly stated, but Fitz heard the threat.

"He knows that," Phil inserted as Fitz looked as though he was bitterly regretting coming into the conference room without backup. "He was talking like the engineer he is."

"And people say you and I have extreme detachment," protested Blake even while Phil gestured at him to just shut up and let him lead.

"I'll really need Skye's involvement," a nervous Fitz requested as he looked towards Phil Coulson for support even as Blake shook his head.

"Please review the papers and we'll meet later this week to discuss the issue," Coulson informed him. "If you do not have any more questions, you're dismissed."

Fitz leapt towards the door and then stopped. "Does Garrett know what we're doing?"

"No," Phil tersely explained. "We'd prefer not to get his hopes up as he's been informed after the previous difficulties restarting his cybernetic system that it is highly unlikely that they could restart it."

"He just seems so alive," murmured Fitz, as he had first handedly witnessed how Garrett marshaled and cajoled and corralled Jemma's Harem Chock Full of Men of Certain Security Levels.

"He plans on outliving all of us," Phil admitted. "Thank you for your time, and I hope you understand when I ask you to be very careful with this documentation."

"Yes, Sir," Fitz stated before he ran for the hills.

Phil Coulson closed the door, securely, and then loudly exhaled.

"You don't want to get Stark involved and I understood your reasoning," protested Felix Blake. "I'm not so sure about Hacker Girl."

"I thought you and Skye were getting alone. You secured her loan for her, which will probably take her a decade to pay off, she has her driver's permit thanks to you, you're giving her driving lessons in your Jeep this weekend. You even got her decent furniture for her apartment, but you don't want her working on John?"

"The loan, the jeep, they mean nothing to me. You, John and Winston are what matters to me," Blake stated. "I just don't trust her enough to ensure his continuing health to her. I understand that she's your hacker, but it's different when one is hacking the Department of Motor Vehicle verses John's cybernetic central nervous system."

It's one of those startling crystal clear moments where Phil Coulson really got Felix Blake. Really **_got_** him, because even while Phil Coulson counted himself as one of the two men that know Blake best, there's always been a small part of Blake that Blake hid from even himself, that painful core that he refused to analyze.

Let alone overanalyze.

Blake is fucking terrified that Garrett will die, and that Phil will end up with Simmons, leaving him alone and on the outside. Oh, and Blake won't be angry, he'll be understanding if it happens. Will throw them one hell of a wedding because he's generous like that, will slip them an awesome honeymoon because he's magnanimous. And he'll be understanding when Phil and he aren't as tight as they used to be, what with Phil's new normal life where he has a pretty lady as his partner. Because Phil is the sane one, the rational one, because Blake has accepted that that he'll end up alone, because that is Blake's greatest fear; that he'll die alone. Awake, aware and begging for the end to come, trapped with just his ceaseless thoughts.

And when Felix Blake commits suicide, it will be a very clean, very well planned out affair. As little mess as possible, with his cremation arranged and Winston's assorted stuffed animals neatly packed as he'll bequeath Winston to Phil.

And the worst part of it all to Phil is that the small part of Felix has already surrendered.

That intrinsical part of Blake that had fought to keep him alive when he was under a building for two whole days, that had continued to scratch and crawl his way back to work even after he had endured such traumatic injuries, has capitulated.

Phil walked over to Felix Blake and squeezed his shoulder. Hard.

"It'll be alright," he promised. "No matter what happens, it will be alright."

No Blake smirk, no head tilt with the 'WTF' look, instead, he reached for Phil's hand and squeezed it. Blake left his hand there and Phil instinctively placed his free hand on Blake's other shoulder.

"I don't know, Phil. I really don't know," Blake softly admitted. "Everything's changing, and I don't handle change well."

"I'll be here, always," Phil reassured Felix, who nodded his head in weary agreement.

And Phil wondered…. Really…. Really wondered… if maybe Simmons is right about the three of them loving each other.

If he looked closely at their twisted, unique relationship with a dispassionate eye, what type of love would it be?

Time to pull out his old philosophical books. Maybe Plato's **_Symposium_**? Well, Phil Coulson was no Aristophanes but he had read the **_The Frogs_** , and he knew the quickest way to hell was in fact a woman scorned while jumping off a tower was far less painful.

And really, platonic love wouldn't quite cover whatever the trio had.

**_Agape?_** A deep spiritual love? Heck no, they'd frickle frackled enough to prove that idea wrong.

**_Eros?_** Physical, passionate love? That incredible heady feeling he had with Audrey? Where just seeing her stole his very soul away? Oh, good God, no. John Garrett? Felix Blake? He had seen both men bleary eyed and shaving plus in some serious need of mouthwash, so Hell to the No.

**_Philia?_** A dryly dispassionate love? Not when the three of them circled their wagons and protected each other fiercely.

That left **_Storgic_**.

Yes. Most assuredly the three of them shared a Storgic love. An easy rapport, self-revelation, interdependency, and mutual need fulfillment (companionship and sex) certainly described their relationship. Their friendship that had turned sexual, that into turn had developed into something deeper and substantial, and they had been quite content with the status quo.

The three of them had just been too stupid to realize it.

And now they were faced with Simmons, and the possibility of Eros love, and the three of them were completely unprepared to handle it. No, instead the three of them discussed, analyzed and handled her in their completely codependent way.

Poor, poor Simmons.

"Let's call it a day, Felix. In a little bit, we need to reassure Jemma Simmons that it's perfectly acceptable for her to speak her mind."

"Should we pick up flowers?" Blake quietly asked. "Something… nice… Not roses, but … something?"

"I think that's a wonderful idea, Felix."


	29. A Serious Conversation (& a Kiss or Two)

We left Jemma and her Harem about to have a Very Serious Conversation. The Ambulance is on Standby and the Disaster Plan has been activated.

* * *

Jemma Simmons took a deep, cleansing breath. She inhaled and then exhaled, a loud, slow, calming breath and then knocked on the apartment door. Phil Coulson opened the door and with a warm smile, he welcomed her into Felix's apartment.

"Hello," he said, "Please come in."

"Are you the Welcome Wagon?" She asked, even while she hated herself as she knew that she was blushing. Simmons wished that she didn't display her emotions so clearly, but it was a curse of being fair-skinned.

"I was the only one able to get the door," he demurred. "Felix is sitting on the couch and it will take him a good fifteen minutes to get off the couch and open the door and John… John is picking up the pizzas from the place you recommended. I'm not sure if it was a good idea for him to order, because he was chortling when he viewed the menu. I worry what he selected. I'm a pizza purist, and I'm not sure about penne ala vodka pizza. I'm just **_not_**."

Again with the bemused grin. How could a girl think?

"You're not wearing a suit," she blurted.

"Please come in," he reminded her. "The neighbors will wonder if you're out here all night."

She stepped in and she repeated, "You're not wearing a suit."

No, he was wearing jeans, trainers and a jumper. All in all, not looking particularly like Suit Wearing Zombie Phil (She was working on stopping that very unkind thought) but instead, warm and approachable, yes, kindly (and perhaps dare she admit it - sexy?) Phil.

"I thought perhaps my standard sartorial selections was perhaps making you feel…" Phil began.

"John talked to you," she groaned.

"I know I speak for all three of us when I express our sincerest desires for you to feel comfortable with us. If I made you feel uncomfortable, I do apologize. I hope you understand that Felix isn't the only one that overthinks things," he admitted with a bashful smile that was completed with his simply adorable dimples.

Simmons attempted to smile, failed and then she looked at the floor. To her surprise, Phil touched her hand and she looked up towards him.

"We're not angry, we want your input. We require it, in fact, but we didn't want to force the issue," he explained. "If this is to work, we **_all_** need to be honest and we all can not fear being candid. And to start off being honest, Felix is in a very bad head space right now. His mind is spinning like a top and he's nervous that he might have a Blake Out."

"Because of me?" Jemma softly asked.

"Nicolette hassled him again, there's two other issues he's having real problems processing and he's a little disappointed that you didn't let him know that you felt uncomfortable." Phil held out his hands and made a pacifying gesture. "He's **_not_** angry at you. Please stop thinking that one or the other of us are angry, annoyed or unhappy with you. We stunned you by our sheer numbers and stunned you with our overwhelming charming and witty personalities. We alo did a great deal of exposition because we wanted to be … open with you… and…you got overwhelmed. It's ok. Now, remember, you have to feel comfortable talking or not talking with us and in exchange, you also need to quietly reassure Felix that it's ok when he has a Blake Out, to feel free to tell John to shut up and to verbally disapprove because you don't like my date night selections.."

"What's a Blake Out like?" she asked.

"Could be one of two. One is that he's really frenzied and talkative, the other way is that he's really quiet because he's convinced that he'll say the wrong thing so he's keeping his mouth shut. Tonight's one of the quiet nights, and I hope it doesn't progress to the manic one," Phil explained. "Poor Winston's been groomed to an inch of his life and I think Blake wants to clipper John's hair as he does look shaggy."

"How's the best way to handle him when he's internalizing?" she asked.

"I usually sit next to him on the couch. Close but not too close. We watch a movie until he's relaxed enough to talk. I would have preferred that we cancel tonight but he insisted on proceeding because you desired to have a serious conversation."

There was a knock on the door, or actually a boot slam and Phil smiled. "Pizza's here." He opened the door after checking the peep hole and in barged John Garrett who was loaded with assorted pizzas. He came into the hallway, literally exploding with vitality and a disbelieving Phil shook his head. "Have a nice nap, John? Find the fountain of youth? Or knock over a pharmacy?"

"Slept all day," John admitted. "And I'm gonna sleep all night as you're babysitting Blake tonight."

* * *

Pizza night at Chez Blake was a very quiet affair once she recovered from her shock of seeing Felix Blake out of a suit and in a short sleeved Henley. The shirt showed off his shoulders and his TATS. Felix Blake, Serious Level Seven Agent, who never cracked a smile at work (It was documented) actually had tattoos!

While she was trying not to gawk (as well, Felix Blake and intricate tribal tattoos were never ever thought of in the same thought, let alone life), she was invited to sit wherever she wanted, so she decided that she'd sit in an arm chair. Then both Phil and John (who thankfully was wearing his usual turtleneck and wasn't sporting a Van Dyke beard, or else she'd be nervous that she had fallen into the "Mirror, Mirror" universe) sat on different pieces of furniture. Blake (and by extension, Winston) held court on the couch with a large ottoman, while John reclined in the settee and Phil staked out the loveseat.

"You really can sit together," she finally protested, even while Phil handed her a plate with a piece of chicken avocado pizza, because the very peculiarity of her oddly dressed harem being quiet (and well behaved) made her nervous. (OK, she anticipated that the boys were about to jump out of the kitchen and yell, "SURPRISE" while she talked to their LMDs. Well, Phil and John would jump and Felix would hobble. And to add even more to her unease, Winston was completely and utterly focused on Felix, and Winston hadn't even looked in her direction. She had rated not even a tail wag, as he was being a Serious Therapy Dog.)

Phil and John glanced at each other, and to her surprise, Felix Blake was the one that spoke. "No,… makes you … uncomfortable."

"Felix," she protested.

"Our previous bad behavior made you feel awkward, so we decided we should actually behave," John Garrett explained. Then he helpfully added, "So you know that it's possible that we can behave. Like adults."

Jemma nervously smiled and then looked at the three men, noticed how tense they were, the physical distance between them and the complete lack of the rough and playful banter that had previously existed. She wasn't sure if she dare admit it? She missed the sass and snark of their earlier encounters.

"You can sit together," she insisted. "Or snark, please. You're making me very nervous."

"It's not making you feel…" Felix started and then quickly bit his lip as though to stop himself from talking.

"Safer, comfortable? No, you're making me feel… horrid. Like I'm the woman that broke up your little relationship. That I'm making you feel horribly guilty as you make love right after I leave," Simmons protested.

"But there is no relationship," Blake quickly stated, not to defend himself, she realized, but instead to reassure her. "None. None at all. There is no 'relationship', there is no 'us'. There's no lovemaking. You know that the three of us had sex, and we will admit that it was just sex for comfort and companionship, but it was never lovemaking. And it doesn't matter, really, because we're not doing it anymore. We've ended it, whatever it was, so there's no need to waste time and effort on defining something that's over and done."

"Because of me it's over, that makes me the other woman," she snapped. "I came in and broke up your troika."

"Well yes, but no," Blake insisted. "You're not the other woman. You didn't break us up, because there was no us to break up but we've stopped because you were very uncomfortable with our odd arrangement. And we agree that you should feel uncomfortable, though you don't need us to justify your feelings."

John nodded his head in agreement but Phil said not a word. Instead, he looked at Blake and Garrett and then her.

"Well, you're not the other woman, because both Phil and Felix have penises," inserted John Garrett. "I'll bring diagrams on our next date and we can express our supreme delight in the glory of the female form and the beautiful differences between men and women."

"Shut the fuck up. For the love of God, shut up, Garrett, or I will beat you to death with my crutches," Felix's voice was like ice and for a wonder, a startled John Garrett shut up even while he looked at Phil for support. "She doesn't need an unhelpful comment like that from Jonathan Garrett. Tonight, the Three Musketeers were supposed to work on being approachable and supportive. This is where Phil should interject."

Then in a very soft tone that was almost a physical caress, Felix explained, "You're the only woman in this. You are a very remarkable woman, and I don't want Phil or John losing a chance of enjoying a relationship with you because of your quite rational fears over the supposed strength of carnal connection… But I can assure you that there isn't one."

"And what about you? Don't you desire an opportunity with me?" Jemma protested. "I get such mixed signals from you three. First, the three of you just all stand back. Then you have a strategy meeting and decide on a course of action. Then it's either you approach me as a group project or you're trying to convince me that one of the others is the better man."

"I don't have a chance with you," Felix softly admitted. "None at all."

"Have I ever said that you don't?" Jemma asked. "You make me want to scream in utter frustration at times, Felix."

"I know I don't have a chance. You deserve someone far better than me. Because I'm fucking crazy. You just admitted that I'm extremely frustrating to deal with even on a short term basis, Simmons, so there's no way a long term relationship would work. I have panic attacks and Blake Outs, and I would never ever be able to make love with you."

Felix Blake radiated sincerity and fucking smiled. Because he truly believed that shite, Jemma realized. And he had really hurt her esteem with that flippant comment of never ever wanting to have sex with her. He wouldn't even put a bag on his head and do it to repopulate Earth.

"I think I should leave now as that comment was really a low blow and really hurt," Jemma softly admitted. Her voice shook because Felix Blake's casual comment of his lack of interest in having sex with her, really, really fucking hurt. It was all too familiar a taunt. "Because my ex told me something similar. And in the interest of complete honesty, let me tell you to **_Go Fuck off, Felix. You don't know the pleasure you'll be missing_**!"

She turned to leave, but both Coulson and Garrett stood behind her even while a panicking Felix blurted that no, no, no he hadn't said it the way it was intended. The two other boys weren't preventing her from leaving, but they were in her way. "Felix, then why don't you just drop out of this insanity if you just couldn't bring yourself to have sex with me?"

"It's not you. It's me. Christ, Simmons, it wouldn't be sex, it would be love making. I wouldn't be able to satisfy you," Felix softly admitted. "I wouldn't because I'd be so worried about ensuring your gratification that I couldn't… be able…to physically perform."

"You really don't seem to have had that problem with Phil and John," Jemma snapped. "Least from the reports."

"Because it's just sex, Simmons. Just sex. Lovemaking is different. I can't make love to Nikki, because…. My mind just bugs out," Felix began.

While she attempted to process that, and figure out why these boys… MEN… with their Y chromosome placed such a difference in sex verses love making, (unlike every other man she knew, including Fitz) Phil and John both started yelling at Felix.

"Can't make love to Nikki?" Garrett growled. "BLAKE! You fucking idiot, you went down that hole again, didn't you?"

"Felix, when is the last time you and Nikki…" Phil protested. "You swore you weren't taking that one way trip to hell again."

Both Coulson and Garrett chastised Blake for his Nikki-escapade and he just took it in complete silence.

"Damn it, Felix. I thought you promised us that you weren't going to let her get her hooks back into you," Phil protested. "When was it?"

"About a month ago," Felix finally admitted. "Before I knew I was bachelor # 5. I was feeling pretty low and alone, she was pretty hot and flirtatious as she needed something from me, like always, she needed something… and… I was really… lonely and…. depressed… because that day would have been our anniversary… and… she was so fucking hot… well… there was no happy ending." He made a rather obscene gesture with his hand. Then in a high falsetto he mimicked, "'It's ok, Felix. I **_understand_** , it's all in your head, not in your pants.' To add insult to injury, I started stimming so badly that it fucking amused her. I can take you being angry at me, and justifiably so, Simmons. But the thought of being with you and … repeating that experience… and you laughing at me while I fucking STIMMED or TIC'd because I was having an anxiety attack. I just can't stop worrying about that. It's fucking on speed dial and auto replay."

"Did you talk to Tim about this?" John asked.

Blake shook his head.

"I'd never laugh at you," Jemma insisted. "I swear, I would never ever laugh or belittle you."

"I didn't talk to Tim, because it will never progress to that step," Felix explained. "I tried to get out this, to recuse myself, but I didn't try hard enough because I guess I secretly wanted to get out my apartment you know? To plan things… outings... practice flirting …. Badly… with a pretty girl. To stop that part of me that willingly crawls back into Nikki's bed when she snaps her fingers even though I know goddamn well how it's gonna end. To have a taste of normalcy."

Garrett, Simmons and Coulson said nothing after Blake finished his outburst, and finally Blake asked them to leave after the long all-encompassing silence became unbearable.

"Please just take the pizza and go," Felix pleaded. "Next time you tell me something is a bad idea, I'll listen to you, Phil."

John Garrett stood and walked towards Felix Blake, but stopped before he got too close.

"Promise me you won't do anything stupid tonight," he requested. "You'll let Phil help you get dressed for work tomorrow."

"Everything I do is meticulously thought out, John," Felix bitterly reminded Garrett. "It's a real…. **_gift_** … and yes, Phil can show up tomorrow morning. I just don't want him here tonight."

"That's not really an answer to his question, Felix. Promise me you won't do anything stupid tonight," Jemma Simmons requested.

"Just going to bed, promise," Felix assured her even as he put up his hand to swear his oath. "I swear on my Captain America fan club membership card that Phil gave me for Christmas last yearu."

She sat next to him, saw how he pulled away from her and she grabbed his hand. "Please don't be mad at me."

"I have promised you that I'd never be angry at you," he reminded her in a voice that was exhausted. "But you can just leave? I need some quiet now. It's just too loud in here for me right now. Too much stimulation, too much noise."

She buzzed him on his cheek, and whispered, "You're still a member of my harem."

"Check your receipt, you still might be able to get your money back," he suggested. "I haven't removed my tags."

"I don't want my money back."

* * *

Jemma Simmons believed that she had done enough collateral damage in her pursuit for honest and open communication for one evening. Therefore she attempted to leave the scene of the crime, but she found herself sitting in Phil Coulson's much smaller apartment after the boys had corralled her there.

"Give him a few days," Phil advised when John put the pizzas away. "He needs to re-center himself."

"I just wanted honest conversation," she protested.

Phil shook his head and smiled, "Be careful of what you wish for. You got honest conversation, so what's your thoughts on it? It was rather informative."

"He and John don't understand why I feel like I'm the other woman. That I broke your relationship," Jemma explained. "Do you understand?"

"Yes on both parts. The three of us love each other," Phil began.

"Least you admit it," Jemma stated.

"No, we all admit that we care for each other, but John and Felix believe in the eros type of love. You know wild, passionate, romantic love. The three of us were friends first and then sex got involved. So, we're not in love with each, but we love each other. If John or Felix could have a true romantic love with you, I'd be thrilled. And they feel the same way," Phil admitted. "We want the best for each other."

John Garrett entered the living room even while Jemma protested that she should leave.

"You're not leaving until it's safe for you to drive. You're too upset to drive home," protested John Garrett as she was escorted to Phil's couch. She was 'plunked' down and John Garrett sat down next to her. He watched her reaction as he carefully placed his arm around her.

"You know, I truly believed that the Bowling Ball Bloodpath was the worst date ever, but… wow, tonight came pretty damn close," he admitted. "Blake was very Blakey tonight."

"It's a gift," she admitted, as she parroted Felix Blake's words of earlier that evening. "It's a real gift."

She giggled, and then she couldn't help herself as her emotional dam burst. Jemma Simmons hysterically laughed until she cried even while John Garrett held her and instructed her to just let it out. So for the first time in far too long, Jemma Simmons permitted herself the comfort of a good long sob. She wept her parents, who had died during the Intergalactic War, for never being able to say goodbye to them, for the countless others who had died and she finally permitted herself to mourn the loss of her old life.

And yes, she wept out her utter frustration with her Harem, who simply were the most intractable gits ever.

John Garrett was still holding her when she finally stopped crying. He was warm, he was solid and he was most assuredly **_alive_** and she was in dire need of emotional comfort. To her delight, he kissed like a pro. Unlike Felix who kissed her so carefully, as though she was fragile, John was enthusiasm and joie de vivre. An infectious joy that chased away her sorrow and replaced it with a happiness that she had been missing for far too long.

When they finally stopped kissing, he leaned towards her and kissed her forehead.

"My motto is 'Life is short, break the rules, forgive quickly, kiss slowly, love truly, laugh uncontrollably, and never regret anything that made you smile.' Mark Twain, and that kiss most assuredly made me smile," he informed her. "Don't regret that."

"Why would I regret that?" she asked.

"I don't think she would, because you seemed to put your usual Herculean effort into it," Phil said. He sat down next to Jemma and tilted his head towards her. "Do I get a chance to kiss you? I know it blows our preplanned schedule to hell, but you've already kissed Felix and John, so… do I get a kiss? Or do I have to wait until I take you to a really fancy restaurant."

Shit. She had complained that she had destroyed their relationship by being the other woman, plus she had snogged 2/3 of her harem! She should just storm to Blake's apartment, strip out of her knickers and plant herself on the granite countertop in the kitchen so the boys could have their way with her.

"I'd hold out for the really fancy restaurant," Garrett advised her. "Remember, get dessert. Try to get two if you can."

"You don't have to kiss me," Phil softly stated as he seemed to guess at her reluctance. "You've had a long emotional evening, so I understand. I can wait until you're comfortable with me."

Oh yes, Phil Coulson, perfect gentleman, but she sensed that he seemed disappointed.

"I think I'd like a kiss," she admitted. Might as well, at this rate.

"Good, I'd like to give you one."

Phil placed his hands on her face, and tilted her head just so. Then he leaned towards her and gave her a long, leisurely kiss where besides melting her insides in the most delicious way ever, he proved that there was some life in the old dog yet.


	30. A Serious Conversation & a Kiss (Pt 2)

When she and Phil stopped kissing due to a lack of air, he possessed enough audacity to actually look rather pleased with himself. As well he should, as he had thoroughly kissed her. Before she voiced of a witty retort (and completed a quick visual scan to confirm that sometime during this snogging session with Garrett and Coulson that she hadn't decided to divest herself of her knickers) he had begun to trace her face using his fingers. His touch was feather light against her face and it was most assuredly as erotic as anything she had ever experienced in her rather inexperienced life.

"Too much? Too little?" he whispered.

"I think if we continued kissing I would have blacked out due to lack of oxygen," she admitted which caused Phil to oddly smile. It wasn't a smile full of pride, but one of bittersweet regret as though he desperately longed for something he couldn't have.

_He touched me, but he couldn't feel it,_ she realized. _And he wants to, so desperately._

"He's asking you about the way he's touching you," whispered John Garrett. "Too much pressure, too little?"

There had been a fundamental shift in her soul sometimes this evening, Simmons realized. Because instead of her having her usual freak out because each man had watched the other snog her (Rather thoroughly) she felt… safe and protected. This profound change demanded that she spend time examining it, but for now, she was content to just let it play out.

"You have such delicate skin, I don't wish to accidentally hurt you," Phil admitted. "I don't know how much pressure I'm exerting."

"You boys need to stop worrying about hurting me," she protested. "I'm not a delicate flower."

Phil laughed. It wasn't a mean laugh but it was still a chuckle so she decided that he deserved a poke in the ribs. Two pokes, and he started laughing even harder.

"WHAT?" she protested.

"You and Felix can't even have a conversation without him having an anxiety attack over something that one of you said that the other took the wrong way," John Garrett protested. "I love that guy like he was my brother of another mother, but you two need a referee. Or a score keeper. Perhaps even a therapist with a talking stick and drums to beat. I'm not sure which one disturbs him more, you or … the EX."

"I am not like her," Simmons protested as she pulled away from Phil and John. "I am not. I would never laugh at him, especially… if…."

"There were sexual difficulties?" Phil offered her as she floundered about as she looked for the right words to express herself. "You are most assuredly not like his ex, but in a way you are. You've gotten behind the Blake Barriers, as you've managed to wiggle your way in, and he doesn't have the faintest idea how you got behind them or how to handle the fact that he's really quite vulnerable to you."

"Don't look horrified," John protested. "You've blazed into our life and turned everything ass over tit. None of us know what to anticipate when we're with you, but that's the fun of dating. The learning, the exploration, the getting to know you phase. Plus the kissing. However for Felix, who needs control and regimentation in order to feel safe, you are absolutely terrifying."

"Yes, the kissing is a great deal of fun," Phil admitted. "And while I enjoy your spontaneity, it does frighten me at times. I mean, the night-night gun incident? I do worry what might happen when I'm with you."

"I would have liked to see Sitwell out cold," John admitted with a delighted cackle. "The pictures I've seen don't do it justice, though I love to fast-forward and rewind the video just to watch Jasper bounce."

"It was a training accident," an embarrassed Jemma Simmons reminded both agents. "I was cleared by the Board of Inquiry. He should have never been in the training room and it was his own fault that he got shot."

Phil snorted even as John Garrett roared.

The three of them continued easily conversing for a while until John Garrett yawned. He apologized and staggered off to bed, while an intense Phil closely watched him. Phil's phone buzzed, and he grimaced when he saw the message.

"You been informed about John's health," Phil stated. "So that's one of the issues that is really troubling Felix. Now, I have a slight problem, I need to make sure John is hooked up to the battery charger and get some readings to confirm that John's been telling me the truth about his condition. Because I know that he's lying to me about how serious it is. And now Felix is requesting help."

"I could help," Jemma offered. "If you think he'd take it from me."

"Promise to behave?" Phil asked. His smile was warm, so he meant no malice.

"Promise," she said.

"I'll give you a key to his apartment. I'll warn him that you'll be helping."

* * *

Jemma Simmons knocked, announced herself, and then entered the apartment. She was greeted by Winston, who had his leash in his mouth. The Giant Schnauzer looked up at her with big soulful eyes, and Felix growled, "He needs to go out. They insist that he needs a leash and I can't juggle that and the crutches."

"That I can do," she assured Felix. She took Winston for a suitably long walk, permitted him to send his pee-mail and then returned back to the apartment. Felix was at his kitchen table and he just finished drinking some herbal tea that its box claimed would help him sleep.

"Thank you," Felix quietly stated. "I'm on these crutches for another month or so, and I can't walk him."

"It's no problem. I can do it anytime you need me to," she promised. "Before I go, can we talk about our conversation tonight?"

"It's late," Felix reminded her. It was a polite bid to avoid the conversation.

"I know, but I want to clear the air between us," Simmons insisted. "You've confessed a few things to me, and I just want to make sure I understand what's truly bothering you. You told me that you were worried about having deviant thoughts about me, and today, you said you were worried about the inability to perform. Which one is it?"

"You caught me," he admitted. "No surprise, you are far smarter than I could ever hope to be."

"What's bothering you?" Simmons asked. She placed her hand on his, noticed and didn't comment on the fact that he was tic-ing.

"I do think about us being… intimate," he slowly admitted. "I hope you're not disturbed. It is all very vanilla and … I hope you understand that I find you very attractive, not just because you're pretty but because you're brilliant. I don't even think that my thoughts about us together would get a PG-13 rating. It's all very… Disneyish. Fade to black."

"I hope that they're nice thoughts," she prompted when she realized that Felix had stopped his confessional. "Are we… kissing?"

He shook his head.

"So we're together in bed and…" she prompted. "Is my inexperience a turn off to you?"

"No, no, not at all. We don't get that far, because I have a full blown anxiety attack because I can't perform and… you laugh at me because I feel trapped, like I'm under the rubble again, and …." He stopped. "I hear you laughing at me when I'm feeling the most vulnerable."

"Oh Felix," she breathed. "I would never do that."

"And… sometimes it gets worse," he admitted in a fake jocular tone. "You tell Skye about my performance issue and she posts it on the Unofficial SHIELD Agent Rate-0-Meter website that I'm not supposed to know about. Have you ever read it? According to it, I'm an absolute nut job, Phil's a Zombie and well… Garrett's a gorilla."

"How far do we get in your thoughts?" she asked.

"Not very far," he admitted.

"Do we kiss at least?" she prompted.

He shook his head.

"You need reassurance that I won't laugh at you," Jemma decided. "Repeated sessions of sincere reassurance, so that I can do. Now, let's **_kiss_**."

**_What_**? He mouthed before she leaned close to him and kissed him. Since she had significantly more experience kissing (ok, she lied as she had a total of two real kisses since they had first kissed), she felt comfortable taking the lead. (Again lying, but bluffing was good.)

And she was delighted to realize that this kiss was even better than the first. In fact, while she kissed Felix, she was determining the best way to perform a proper experiment on her hypothesis that kissing men was much more satisfying then kissing boys, and that being kissed by men got better each and every time.

Felix pulled back in mid-kiss and he looked wary. "You're smiling. Are you…." **_Laughing at me?_** Was unspoken by Felix but still heard by them both.

"No… I'm wondering if I can get on that nasty blog and tell everyone what an absolute phenomenal kisser you are. Or should I keep this to myself as I don't plan on sharing you with anyone. Except for Phil and John," she admitted.

"But…" he protested.

"Kiss me," she ordered, and so he did.

And her empirical evidence proved that kissing got better each and every time.

But being a thorough researcher (And being quite proud of her meticulousness and diligence) she planned on doing a great deal more experimenting.

What she endured for name of science, Sir Francis Bacon would be so proud.


	31. Jemma and her Ducklings

Felix Blake was one hell of a kisser, Jemma Simmons realized when they finally stopped kissing. Not just French kissing, but he had nibbled her lips and teased her in other delicious ways and… Dear God, she wasn't able to think during that!

"I'm still worried about your self-esteem," she teased after she finally got her breath.

"Are you?" he dryly asked.

"Yes," she turned serious and she squeezed his hand. "I am. I would never laugh at you."

"This side knows that," he said, as he pointed at the right side of his head. "However, the other side has very loud doubts."

She leaned towards him and kissed the left side of his head.

"I will work harder to assuage his doubts. And I'll do my best to make sure that the right side doesn't get jealous."

"Don't waste your time, the left side never shuts up," Blake admitted as he tilted his head. He smiled though, a rare, open smile and Jemma's heart melted.

"I don't think it's a waste of my time," she protested.

"You'll get frustrated, due to the futility of it all," he admitted. His smile faded and then he carefully stood. "Time for you to go home, get some sleep."

He escorted her to the door, and she decided to be bold. So she blocked his way in the hallway.

"I'm not disturbed, you know. I'm actually rather flattered," she admitted. "That you're attracted to me because you think I'm pretty and smart. I just wish you had a happier fantasy."

"Par for the course," he murmured with an eye roll and a dry laugh.

"You deserve a happier one," she protested and then unexpectedly, she felt almost ridiculously brave. "I know, how about I give you one for the left side to review?"

He quirked a crooked smile and gave her that Felix Blake head tilt where he wondered why he's the only sane person in the room.

"We went away for a long weekend, because… you wanted to make our first time special," she said.

"Really, not helping my anxiety there," he drolly admitted. However, there was the smallest quirk to his lips, as though he was amused.

"But I was the nervous one and I spent a great deal of time picking out something that I'd hope you'd like," she admitted.

"Glad it was the one with the ties. I worried you'd bring the one with the little buttons because I couldn't have managed them. It's hard to be suave and debonair when your hands are shaking. So, how was our long weekend?" he asked, and Jemma blushed when she realized that she was actually **_flirting_** with Felix Blake.

And he was looking at her with such an intense look in his eyes that she realized that she was playing with fire … because he really wanted to know.

"And you made me feel…." She paused, and he just stared at her, and finally she admitted, "You made me feel like I'm… sexy…. You were absolutely amazing as you made me feel… desirable. We ordered room service all weekend as we never left our bed. Except to shower. Together."

He still watched her, and she blushed once more and utterly captivated Felix, as she hadn't realized that her blushes made her even more adorable to her Harem.

"Temptress, thy name is Simmons. Go home, Simmons," he softly ordered. "Before I foolishly convince myself that the risk of another dislocated hip combined with the pain of everlasting ridicule is worth it."

"I'd like a goodnight kiss," she protested even as he opened the door and pointed towards the hallway.

"Be gone with you, breathtaking temptress." His face was stern but his voice was quite soft.

"Temptress?" she pouted before she almost exploded in an ear to ear smile. "Can we talk more about the breathtaking bit? I'd like to hear more. And _temptress_. I've never been called that before, so it sounds really exciting, I must have been incredible. That must have been one heck of a weekend. Dare I hope for a repeat?"

"Fortunately, I am pure of heart, so the angels are keeping me safe from your temptations," he retorted. "Out, Simmons, out. Go taken your wantonness elsewhere, temptress."

Deliberately, he closed the door, but gently in her face. He quickly locked it and leaned his head against the door.

"Fuck, fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck. You've got it so bad for her, Blake," Felix protested. "And Phil and John do too. And even Winston likes her best."

Winston woofed a protest and Blake shook his head. "You do, Winston, you do. You always bring your toys to her when she's here. Do you think I wouldn't notice?"

Blake walked back to the kitchen table. Once there, he pulled out his wallet and unfolded a score card. He took a pen and neatly colored in several squares, including the special bonus square of "Admits to performance issues with EX in front of a crowd" which earned her either a premium sound system or 20" alloy wheels. After a long stare at the card, he put the Flakey Blakey card back into his wallet.

"The card's a quarter full, you'll have the grand prize soon enough. Then, I'll have to come up with another prize for the Putting up with Flakey Blakey contest."

That done, he decided it was time for bed.

ALONE.

* * *

Jemma Simmons bounced into her flat, and Skye and Fitz looked up from a pile of multicolored papers that were on the kitchen table. Fitz started laughing and he poked Skye. Hard, so she grabbed the papers and stuffed them into a briefcase, even while Fitz distracted Jemma by making a great deal of snarky comments about her happiness.

"What did you do, Simmons?" Fitz demanded.

"She's **_glowing_** ," Skye announced.

"She must have shagged them," Fitz decided even as he placed in his hands on his hips in a mock disapproving scowl that was at complete odds with his wide grin. "Did you remember what I told you? You were careful, weren't you?"

"Which one?" Skye asked, before she gasped in complete disbelief, "All three of them? At the same time? You did **_not_**."

"No, not while Felix is on crutches," protested Fitz. "I won't let you maim him again."

"I still can't believe that he lets you call him Felix," protested Skye.

"I now know which one of them is the best kisser," Jemma giggled from the hallway. "Anyone curious? I need to hang up my jacket."

"Tell me!" Skye yelled.

Simmons ran towards her room and Fitz glared at Skye. "You need to unwrinkle that paperwork. Felix will be angry with me if he knows I shared it with you without his permissions."

"I don't know if I can rebuild the code," Skye protested. "We're talking about John's life if I can't recode his BIOS."

"He's got maybe a six months, tops," Fitz admitted. "I'll continue working on the nanobots delivery system and you work on the code payload."

"Agreed," Skye stated.

"I think it's Coulson who is the best kisser," Fitz catcalled as he tried to distract Simmons while Skye hid the paperwork.

"Garrett," insisted Skye. "No, no, no! Do not tell me it's actually Agent Blake!"

Simmons bounced down the hallway, her long curly haired cascading down her back and she was wearing her favorite fuzzy pyjamas.

"Phil is very romantic, John is a great deal of fun but Felix… he's very intense," she admitted.

After Skye left after a debriefing about Jemma's Harem and how they kissed, Fitz went to the kitchen. He scooped out two large bowls of ice cream and returned to the living room.

"What's bothering you?" he asked as he handed her the ice cream.

"I had serious conversation with Felix without the benefit of drugs, and I kissed them." she softly admitted. "They're such incredible kissers in such different ways."

"Why are you so sad then?" he asked. "Snogging is supposed to be cheerful. Why did you give us the happy act when you came home?"

"Skye is just so serious about being the social coordinator and she really think Fury will can her if she buggers this up. But… the boys… they've broken up because of me," she admitted. "Not that they'd ever admit that they were seeing each other. Well, Felix and John refuse to admit it, but Phil admit that they were involved. It's wasn't a wild romantic love, but… they were friends first and then the sex started. Phil says he'd be happy if John or Felix could find love with me."

"So if you ever decided…." Fitz began.

"I'd always feel guilty about destroying something that obviously meant a great deal to them. Something that brought them a great deal of comfort and strength when they needed it. So, I'd be the other woman," she admitted. "I got carried away by how wonderfully they kissed me. I mean, Felix even called me a breathtaking temptress."

She shyly smiled.

"I've never been calling breathtaking. Or a temptress," she admitted. "I rather liked it."

"Go on," he prompted.

"He has the most incredible eyes," she stated.

"Yes, I've noticed, Simmons. Continue on…"

"Serious conversations can be rather informative," she slowly admitted.

Felix sat next to her on the couch and he hugged her.

"Felix trusted me enough to let me in behind his walls. Tonight was… painful… but wonderful… because I met the real Felix tonight, the one that Phil and John know. Phil was sweet and romantic and patient and John's **_John_** …" She said in a very exasperated tone. "But I don't know what to do. They're dependent on each other and John's ill."

"He's very ill, Simmons," Fitz quietly stated.

"Did he ask you to help him?" Simmons intently asked. "What can I do to help?"

"Felix and Phil did. I wanted to get you and Skye involved, but I have to get their permission," he explained. "It's pretty bad. We'd need to rebuild him from the insides out."

"Does he know that they asked you to help?" she asked.

Fitz shook his head.

"First of all, don't tell them that I let you know about this. I asked Skye to review the documentation and you can look at it tomorrow," he explained.

"How much time?" she asked.

"Four to six months," Fitz admitted.

She closed her eyes and Fitz roughly embraced her.

"The deadline for when I decide which one gets to father my children," she admitted. "I'll be alone and pregnant and Phil and Felix will be comforting each other in bed."

"They wouldn't do that to you," he protested.

"I'd do it to them," she softly admitted. "The three of them are so intertwined, that I'd throw Felix at Phil with my blessings, if it would keep them both sane and alive. Everyone thinks Felix is the fragile one, but he isn't. He really isn't, as he struggles every day because he feels so much. He puts on his amour of self-defense and prickliness and does battle every day. That takes so much inner strength, and to have a constant mental voice ridiculing you…and that ex of his, God, what a horrid person."

"Which one is the fragile one then?" Fitz asked. "John?"

"Phil," she announced. "He doesn't permit himself to feel anything because he was broken and the pain overwhelmed him. He has completely shut down that part of him that feels, except for his odd friendship with John and Felix. If John dies, Phil will shatter."

"How can you be so sure? I'd think Felix is the fragile one," Fitz protested.

"Because Phil accidentally hurt Felix once, and it still bothers him to this day," she admitted. "And that is nothing compared to John dying."

"Simmons, you must have had one serious conversation this evening. Regardless, hou can't keep the three of them, Simmons," Fitz softly protested. "When you make your choice, you'll have to return the other two back to the wild. There are other bachelorettes in need."

"I'd take such good care of them, and what if Felix finds another Nikki? If Phil doesn't find another Audrey? I mean, I'd take such good care of them, make sure they got all their shots and they had regular checkups with the duck doctor," she softly protested. "They're just too interdependent to survive for long on their own. They've imprinted on each other and they won't be able to manage on their own. They're wander off into rush hour traffic and poor Winston will be beside himself as he tries to herd them."

"They're not ducklings, Simmons," Fitz reminded her. "Besides you don't have a yard, so you won't be able to get a wading pool for them to wade in. Our bathtub isn't big enough to bathe in, let alone have three ducklings in it."

Simmons laughed, softly, and smiled at Fitz. "I can just imagine the three of them with swimmies. Phil will have Captain America swimmies and matching swimming trunks. John will have Harley Davidson swimmies.., and Felix…"

Fitz waited for a bit, and then prompted her with, "And Felix?"

"Will be sitting in a lawn chair, as someone has to be the life guard," she said. "And he'll have a stop watch so he can ensure that each duckling squeegees suntan lotion on their bald spots at the proper interval."

Fitz tittered a laugh, and Simmons smiled.

"Poor Felix, he just struggles so hard to be normal," she whispered. "He's really quite sweet."

* * *

John Garrett was lying prone in Phil's bed and he was biting his lip. Hard.

"Say cheese," Phil stated just before he injected him in the gluteus. That done, he properly disposed of the needle and sat next to John.

"Thanks, I couldn't manage the injection tonight," John admitted. Then when Phil began gently stroking his shoulder, John growled, "None of that, we promised Simmons."

"No sex, no physical intimacy," Phil said. "Besides with what I just gave you, you should be asleep soon. I was never one for a quickie. I have standards, low ones, I admit, but still standards."

"How long do you think before Felix can ride his bike again?" John asked.

"Three or four weeks, possibly," Phil said.

"You know what I'd like… I'd like a long bike ride, just the four of us, you, me, Felix and Winston. Nice long ride, and we end up by the ocean, where it's still clean and you can still swim in the water. Rent something beachside and I can watch the waves for a bit. Maybe have a lobster bake, a real one, with seaweed and all that. Like we did on the Cape that one time when we were doing that sting operation."

Phil softly whispered, "I can arrange that."

"Let Felix, he's the better planner," John mumbled. "Phil… you need to keep an eye on Felix when I gone. If he goes back to Nikki, tell him my ghost is gonna scare him into permanent impotency."

"Promise," Phil somberly whispered, but John was asleep and didn't hear him.


	32. A Serious Conversion and More Emails

It was a rough night, and Felix Blake wasn't surprised that he woke up at three. The thoughts raced in his head and disrupted his sleep with horrid dreams. Therefore, he decided to face them head on.

"I had a Blake out. I admitted that I have sexual fantasies of her that Walt Disney would approve of, and she didn't laugh. I admitted to being unable to sexually satisfy Nikki and Simmons didn't call me pathetic or a loser or a freak. No, she just wished I had a nicer fantasy of the two of us. She kissed me, willingly, and then gave me a sweet little fantasy to have for my own enjoyment. So shut up, **_you_**." He knocked his temple so the voice knew it was being addressed. "Shut up. The laughter, sounds like Nicolette, it doesn't sound like Simmons, so **_shut… up… you_** … ** _bitch_**."

He inhaled and exhaled slowly. Then he tilted his head and listened to the not very nice voices in his head.

"Still sounds British." He dryly admitted. He reached for his phone, saw a text from Phil and opened it.

_John's requesting a bike ride and a week beach side when you can ride again. Put your thinking cap on we need a private beach within an easy bike ride?_

_Will do. Let's schedule it for four weeks from now. I should be off the crutches._

To his surprise, Phil emailed back almost immediately. It seemed Felix was not the only one who had a rough night and couldn't sleep.

_He wants a lobster bake, Blake. Like we did at the Cape._

_I'll probably be using a cane in four weeks. I'm not digging no hole! I'll get a caterer. Or hire a local._ _How many people?_

_The four of us – John, you, me and Winston. It's the final shebang for the Three Musketeers. He wants to be able to sit in a chair and watch the ocean._

_You get to talk to Simmons. You get to hash it out so she's ok with it._

_No problem, bro. But why me?_

_You're the one with the mad people skillz._

* * *

Much to Jemma's surprise, Phil texted her and asked for coffee after work. It was an odd request so she was a little nervous when she met him in a little out of the way shop.

"Hi," he said when he met her at the shop. She stood on her toes and smooched him on his cheek which caused his dimples to appear.

They ordered, (he paid, naturally, which was a custom that she planned on disrupting), they found a cozy little spot outside and Phil motioned for her to sit, only after he had scanned the area. He gifted her a rather awkward smile and she stated, "Just spill it."

In response, he laughed. A warm mellow laugh that wasn't directed toward her, but instead towards himself.

"I'm enjoying the fact that you are comfortable speaking your mind, but you're still gobsmacking me. Ok, spilling it as you requested. As we've mentioned, John is quite ill, and the prognosis is poor. Once Felix is able to ride his bike again, he wants the three of us to take a long bike ride. By that I mean, Felix…"

"You and John, and hopefully Winston, as someone needs to keep an eye on you three," Jemma informed Phil. "Yes, it's a boys' only biker trip. No girls. Do you think I might throw a fit? Be a right stroppy cow? Yes, the four of you go have your bike trip. There's one condition, actually several."

"Getting out my note pad," he stated. "We're thinking we'll take a week, find some place ocean side, as John wants to watch the ocean for a bit."

"A week?" she softy repeated.

"I know what you're thinking. Nothing will happen between the three of us," he assured her. "That's stopped."

It was tough being an adult, Jemma realized. Really, really tough, but she had put on her big girl pants and was working on her insecurities about HER boys and their relationship. And, yes, they were HER boys now, as she was very protective of them. (Because really, they needed someone looking after them, someone who had their best interests at heart because they'd noble themselves to an early, painful death) They had been kind and supportive to her (though exasperating) and she needed to return the favor (especially the exasperation as it was her right as a female). Therefore, she could and would give them her blessing. In her own uniquely British way.

"I'm just worried that if John is that sick that he shouldn't be away from SHIELD medical for a whole week," she stated. "And naturally, something will happen between you three. Of the three of you, you're the only one that admits that the three of you are in a relationship, so let's be honest. You will be grieving and mourning and yes, the three of you will end up in the same bed. Whatever happens, happens. I won't be angry, but I will be beyond furious if you three decide to deny whatever emotional and physical comfort you can give each other because of your needless fear of my reaction."

She took a long sip of her tea and then leaned towards Phil. "Do I need to give Felix a list of what I view as permissible behavior for this Bad Boy Biker Beach Bonanza?"

"Thoroughly documented with numerous corollaries and clauses," he admitted with a fond smile for poor Felix.

"I shall never be able to think of them all," she mock protested. "Can I put down, 'I trust you to do the right thing,' then sign my name and date it?"

"Felix doesn't trust himself, so he won't understand the idea that someone who he has only just met, can trust him. Especially since you have severely flummoxed him at times."

"The fact that he can't trust himself is a horrible way to live," she whispered. Then in a brighter tone, she added a rather sly, "I'm permitted to flummox him, as I'm female."

Phil smiled once again and then turned serious, "Nikki really fucked him over. When John dies, Felix will do something really meticulously thought out and stupendously fucking stupid."

"And what about you?" she asked. Though she was planning on preventing John Garrett's demise as she had a meeting scheduled with Skye and Fitz for later that evening to discuss options and a strategy.

Phil didn't speak for the longest time, so she didn't push the issue, instead she placed her hand on his and squeezed. He wouldn't feel her touch, but maybe, maybe, he'd see where her hand was.

"When I woke up after the Fall of New York, I work to realize that I had lost Audrey, I had lost the most basic sensation of touch and… I was utterly fucked up. Then John pulled me into help Felix as Nikki was too busy trying to spend Felix's money as opposed to actually helping him."

He took a long sip of his coffee, realized where her hand was, and smiled. He brought it to his lips and kissed it. After the brief buzz, he didn't let it go, instead he stroked her hand with his thumb.

"Fortunately, Felix had her on a very limited budget because they were engaged, not married. She didn't have access to anything besides their combined account for household expenses. And he was so terribly needy, after all, he wanted someone to visit him in the hospital, and to get him a fan." Phil's tone was horribly, horribly dry.

"Fan?" she asked.

"He uses it to sleep; it's white noise and the wind against his face? Helps him sleep, I think. He has a ceiling fan in his bedroom. And to be honest, I have to admit that Felix also wanted someone in the room with him while he slept, just in case the building collapsed so he wouldn't be by himself in the rubble. He was completely immobilized as he had multiple fractures in his lower extremities. John would plan these elaborate rescue missions where we would save our personnel from Nurse Ratchet."

Phil smiled again at a fond memory.

"We'd place him on gurney and wheel him outside. Get him gelato or coffee. The staff played along as Felix's escape attempts really lightened the mood on the ward. They'd send out an orderly after a bit so we would have help getting him back into the hospital. Then he got Winston and they were inseparable. Winston just really 'got' Felix and there we are."

"You three are very close," she said.

"If I hadn't needed to get my shit together to help Felix, I don't know where I'd be right now," he admitted. "John took the two of us on as his personal cause because of what happened to his team so we're all horribly intertwined."

That thought frightened her, horribly. That she would lose both the irrepressible John Garrett and the regimented Felix Blake, and in turn, Phil would be lost to her.

"So any questions?" Phil asked.

"What did Felix see in Nicolette?" she asked. It wasn't the question she thought she would ask, but still, she needed to know.

"Besides the sex?" Phil teased. "Actually, Felix has always been a little focused, and when they were first together, she'd be able to… tease him … but gently into being less regimented. She was treated like a princess by her family and Felix treated her very, very well. The problem with being a princess, even a kind, munificent princess like Nicolette originally was, is that deep down, it's always about them. When it became all about Felix, it required a fundamental shift in her world view that she couldn't handle."

"Go on," she prompted.

"She tried, she really did, because he offered to cancel the engagement right after he got hurt, but she refused," he admitted. "But Felix was literally not functioning at that point because he couldn't sleep in the dark, he couldn't handle even having a blanket on his legs, every building had to be thoroughly examined. So when he asked if they could make love for the first time after the accident, she panicked, as she knew it wasn't just sex, it was Felix recommitting fully to their relationship. She freaked, because she saw a lifetime of continually dealing with Felix and his fears."

"I'm confused, you sound as if you like her," Simmons admitted.

"I hate her, with a fiery passion reserved only for aliens with Daddy issues. And if Felix hadn't left his apartment door ajar…. Winston ran down to my apartment and proceeded to bark at my door until Garrett and I opened it. Then he grabbed Garrett and literally pulled him to the elevator. We knew something was wrong then… and…Felix… we managed to get his service revolver away from him… got him very drunk… and that's the night it started… To this day, I do not know how Winston got from Felix's place down to mine, as he doesn't have opposable thumbs for the door knobs and I know he can't read the numbers in the elevator."

"That dog is simply amazing."

"Which is why I give him my Kobe steaks every now and then, though I deny it," Phil confessed. "Giant Schnauzers aren't normally used as therapy dogs, but Winston certainly has done wonders with Felix."

"And what about Mickey and Max?" Jemma continued her questioning.

"They were rooks, just in the field, and John watched the car explode. He's been through some serious shit, got fragged in Sarajevo, Felix got him extricated out but he had literally duct taped his outsides together to keep his insides in, so they put Humpty Dumpty back together again. It was jury rigged and it was supposed to be a temporary solution and…it turned permanent…" Phil ceased talking as he needed to compose himself. "And… they can't seem to fix it."

"I want you to do whatever you need to do on this beach trip," Simmons insisted. "Emotionally, spiritually, physically … whatever… just do it."

"I'm totally confused, you didn't approve but now you do… and you thought you were the other woman… and…" Phil confessed. His adorable face was completely and utterly perplexed, and Simmons smiled at him.

"I wanted you three to be honest with me. My ex never was, and when I confronted him, he said it was my fault as I was frigid." The confession was difficult, but really after Felix's confession of the previous night it was easier. "You admitted that the three of you… when I asked…. and you didn't put the blame on me… and you were willing to stop…"

"We **_have_** stopped," Phil repeated.

"He refused because… he claimed that he had needs that I wasn't able to satisfy…. I bought books, lots and lots of books, and…I read them all, and I never felt comfortable enough to try anything with him."

"I think the three of us need to locate this Avery fellow and give him a level 8 smack down," Phil admitted. "Why did you put up with his shit? He didn't deserve you."

"Why does Felix keep crawling back to Nikki?" It was a rhetorical question but Phil answered it anyway.

"I'm trusting you with a very painful secret, and I hope you will never reveal this to anyone including Fitz. Felix crawled back to Nikki because he loved her, and they were talking about having children together. When New York happened, Felix was forty-seven, Nikki's was… thirty eight? Still young enough to try naturally with some help… and he wanted that dream of wife, kids and a house… and when that dream shattered, he placed his service revolver against his temple and came damn close to pulling the trigger. So whenever Nikki twitches her hips at him, there's a small desperate part of him that completely overrides his common sense and he ends up in her bed. While John doesn't understand, I do. Because I had planned on asking Aud to marry me, but Loki happened. The proposal was perfect and… if the roles were reversed, I'd be back in Aud's bed the minute she winked at me. Even knowing how it would end, I would be there, in a flash."

Phil stopped and drank more coffee.

"How do I fit in with you three?" she asked.

"Where ever you want to, you just let us know," Phil stated. "But it will be easier for all of us now that you're comfortable expressing your opinion. And… keep reading, and when you decide to take that step with one of us, to kick our tires, you can tell us what you want to try for your enjoyment. Just with Felix…"

"No restraints, no domination," she softly promised with a warm smile. "Basic vanilla."

"Which can quite nice," Phil assured her. In a very soft, teasing tone, "You don't really need the leather and the various torture devices. Sometimes, vanilla is quite nice when you desire to be emotionally close to someone. The other stuff can get in the way. It's fun, but… the fundamentals are quite fun."

And he gifted her with a mischievous smile complete with a matching bad boy twinkle in his eyes.

"Phillip James Coulson, you are a naughty boy," she delightedly exclaimed.

"Garrett doesn't deserve all the fun," Phil teased. "Now what's your list of demands?"

"I want the following: a picture of Winston in his riding gear on the back of Felix's bike. Then a picture of all my bad boy bikers in their leathers. You're to call me if anything happens with John."

"Agreed. But what else do you want?" Phil asked. "Those are all easy requests, so you must have some special request."

"I'd like to be invited … not for the whole week, but maybe for a day?" she asked. "I know this is for you three, I know that, but…"

"You're part of this insanity now so you should make an appearance. Let me run it past them," Phil decided.

"If you could, please tell them that I'd appreciate it," she murmured.

* * *

**_TO: John Garrett_ **

**_CC: Felix Blake_ **

**_Jemma Simmons, being far too good for the likes of us, has no problem with the Beach getaway. She also said that she's ok if anything happens that week (as in anything)._ **

**_However there is a cost:_ **

**_a)_ ** **_Picture of Winston in full riding gear_ **

**_b)_ ** **_Picture of her harem in full leather gear_ **

**_c)_ ** **_Shewantstoshowupforadayortwooffuninthesunwithus_ **

**_Let me know, John._ **

_Phil_

* * *

**_TO: Phil_ **

**_CC: Felix Blake_ **

**_I didn't realize that our Dr. Simmons had a leather fetish. It's the quiet ones you need to worry about (Cough cough… BLAKE)._ **

**_Sure, she can come down for a day or two. How about when Felix has the lobster bake (BTW Felix, I want enough butter to drown myself in as I've reached that point where I say Fuck you, LDL)_ **

**_John_ **

**_TO: Phil_ **

**_CC: John_ **

**_Excuse me, Phil. Simmons gives us permission to do WHAT? She also said that she's ok if anything happens that week (as in anything). _ **

**_And she's showing up? Is she bringing Fitz and Skye also?_ **

**_I think I need a bigger beach house._ **

* * *

**_TO: Felix_ **

**_CC: Phil_ **

**_Felix,_ **

**_She gave us permission to frickle frackle._ **

**_And yes, great idea. Bring Fitz and Skye down for my lobster bake. Anyone know if my nefarious plot at getting Fitz and Trip together has worked?_ **

**_JOHN_ **

* * *

**_TO: John_ **

**_CC: Phil_ **

**_ WE ARE NO LONGER FRICKLE FRACKLING. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, CAN WE JUST CALL IT WHAT IT WAS? FUCKING? WE ARE NOT FOURTEEN YEAR OLD GIRLS. WE CAN SAY THE WORD. FUCKING! _ **

**_I WAS BEING SARCASTIC ABOUT SKYE AND FITZ._ **

**_Felix_ **

* * *

**_TO: Felix_ **

**_CC: Phil_ **

**_Pookie Bear,_ **

**_I can detect a great deal of anger._ **

**_It's my End of Life Party (I Can Invite If I Want to). Much apologies to Leslie Gore._ **

**_JOHN_ **

* * *

**_TO: John_ **

**_CC: Phil_ **

**_It's really hard to find a pet friendly house with a private beach at the best of times, let alone last minute like this. Throwing in a request for five bedrooms is a bit much._ **

**_Felix_ **

* * *

**_TO: Felix_ **

**_CC: Phil_ **

**_Five bedrooms?_ **

**_John_ ** **_Felix (and Winston)_ ** **_Phil_ ** **_Fitz (and Trip?)_ ** **_Skye_ **

**_Where oh where is Ms. Simmons bunking? Who is the lucky dog? Woof, woof, woof._ **

**_JOHN_ **

* * *

**_TO: John_ **

**_CC: Phil_ **

**_Down, boy, down._ **

**_Simmons will bunk with Skye._ **

**_Felix_ **

**_PS - Here's the house I rented. See attached link._ **

* * *

**_TO: Felix_ **

**_CC: John_ **

**_THIS IS A PRIVATE NUDE BEACH, FELIX. NUDE. AS IN NO CLOTHING! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?! SERIOUSLY! FIFTY YEAR OLD MEN DO NOT DANGLE THEIR PARTICIPLES AT NUDE BEACHES, FELIX XAVIER BLAKE!_ **

**_PHIL_ **

* * *

**_TO: Phil_ **

**_CC: Felix_ **

**_Simmons has already gotten a gander at Felix's Frontal. It's time for you to take one for the home team, and drop trow, Phil._ **

**_JOHN_ **

* * *

**_TO: John_ **

**_CC: Phil_ **

**_YOU BASTARDS. YOU LIED TO ME. LIED. I ASKED IF THE BLANKET SLIPPED WHILE I WAS IN THE HOSPITAL, DRUGGED TO THE GILLS, DEFENSELESS AND UNABLE TO PROTECT MYSELF…. AND IF SHE SAW ANYTHING. YOU TOLD ME NO._ **

**_I HATE YOU BOTH WITH A VEHEMENCE THAT IS UNRIVALED BY ANYTHING._ **

**_Felix_ **

**_PS - The beach is zoned for nudity, clothing optional. There are FENCES, and the VIEWS are BLOCKED from the other BEACHES so that meant you and Phil could take your shirts off. Like normal people do? Because we can't claim that Phil's scar is from a botched appendectomy and that Garrett's wearing a TENS unit._ **

* * *

**_TO: John_ **

**_Uhmm. I think Felix is really pissed. Groveling is required. I tried talking to him at work today and he just stared through me like I wasn't there. I haven't died again (last time I checked) so he's absolutely enraged._ **

**_Phil_ **

* * *

**_TO: Phil_ **

**_You're right. I figured he'd be happy if he knew that Simmons licked her lips in eager delight because he's fucking hung._ **

**_Blame it on my dying brain cells._ **

**_John_ **

* * *

**_TO: John_ **

**_Felix is really angry. Skye advised me that he's completely shut down at work._ **

**_Phil_ **

* * *

**_TO: Phil_ **

**_Think you can finagle front row tickets for that group he wanted to see?_ **

**_Maybe we can convince Simmons that she really wants to go and see a bunch of grey hairs rock out (The Band, not Felix)._ **

**_Seriously, I can't die with him mad at me!_ **

**_JOHN_ **

* * *

**_TO: JEMMA's HAREM (Distribution list)_ **

**_Ummm… did I do something to upset you? I noticed a bit of tension at last night's group date?_ **

**_Jemma_ **

* * *

**_TO: Jemma_ **

**_No! I could never be mad at you. I promised, remember?_ **

**_Felix_ **

* * *

**_TO: Jemma_ **

**_No, I'm not upset with you. It's been a rough week at work, and I'm tried and cranky._ **

**_Forgive me, please?_ **

**_Phil_ **

* * *

**_TO: Jemma_ **

**_CC: Phil, Felix_ **

**_Felix is rightfully pissed at me for me being an utter asshole besides being a whole horse's ass._ **

**_I have been unable to display sufficient remorse for being a complete idiot to slake his righteous wrath. I am crawling on shards of broken glass while Phil pours Mad Dog 357 Pure Ghost Hot Sauce on my open wounds at 8:00 PM tonight in hopes of gaining repentance. When that's done, I will do a tap dance of 'I'm so fucking sorry please forgive me for being an asshole' while Phil sings a capella._ **

**_JOHN_ **

**_(Who Winston would like out of his Dog House even though it's spacious and has air-conditioning)_ **

* * *

**_TO: John, Phil_ **

_**You're both assholes. But so am I. Guess we're doomed to be assholes together.** _

_**I remain,** _

_**Yours in complete Asshole-dom,** _

_**(HOWEVER, John is the Galactic Overlord of Assholes)** _

_**Felix** _

_**PS – I better have a large box of French Macarons and a personal container of Gelato next time you two assholes show at my door.** _

* * *

**_TO: Felix_ **

**_What happened?_ **

**_Jemma  
_ **

* * *

**_TO: Jemma_ **

**_After the Great Bowling Ball Bloodbath, I asked both Phil and John if you… got a gander…. at certain parts that … usually remain covered … until a relationship reaches a certain highpoint… while I was drugged and unable to cover myself._ **

**_Bastards both lied to me._ **

**_Felix_ **

* * *

**_TO: Felix_ **

**_  
Does it help if I confess it's the loveliest one I've seen?_ **

**_Jemma_ **

* * *

**_TO: Jemma_ **

**_FUCK NO. I was both drugged and flaccid._ **

**_Besides how many have you seen? TWO? You damn me with faint praise._ **

**_FXB_ **

* * *

**_TO: Felix_ **

**_I've seen more than two. And you weren't flaccid. You were rather proud, in fact._ **

**_Jemma_ **

* * *

**_TO: JEMMA_ **

**_Good God, can you stop? It's bad enough you caught a gander, but apparently I was groped while I was under general anesthesia._ **

**_FXB_ **

* * *

**_TO: Felix_ **

**_It's a natural response to several of the drugs you were given. You weren't groped._ **

**_Jemma_ **

* * *

**_TO: Jemma_ **

**_I hereby declare you the winner of the Flakey Blakey game. I'll buy you the car RIGHT NOW if you cease this conversation immediately. What color?_ **

**_Felix_ **

* * *

**_TO: Felix_ **

**_I'm not playing the Flakey Blakey game. I refuse to play. I refuse to participate. I will not accept a prize that is based on a game where you mark off incidents where you think you Blaked out. If given the car, it will sit in the driveway until it rusts._ **

**_Jemma_ **

* * *

**_TO: Jemma_ **

**_But it's a really sweet car. It's much nicer than your rusted Nissan (which by the way has four recalls on it which you haven't followed up on). Also check your left rear tire as it looks low._ **

**_If you're not playing the game, then why are you putting up with me? Seriously, what's in it for you? You could easily end this farce by declaring Phil as the only logical candidate. Because he's healthy and he's sane._ **

**_Felix_ **

* * *

**_TO: Felix_ **

**_Because I am a hot blooded woman, and after seeing your magnificent shifter, I plan on giving you a test drive until I can't shift you out of neutral._ **

**_JEMMA_ **

* * *

**_TO: Felix_ **

**_Felix? You're not answering my phone calls and my emails._ **

**_Jemma_ **

* * *

**_TO: Felix_ **

**_Felix? Seriously? Are you ok?_ **

**_Jemma_ **

* * *

**_To: Winston_ **

**_Be a love and check to make sure your dad is ok? Have him call me._ **

**_Jemma_ **

* * *

**_TO: Jemma_ **

**_FRAID DaDDee's EngInE SeiZed. TiM da MeCHanIC DuEinG HouSe KaLL._ **

**_Winston Leonard Spencer-Churchill Blake,_ **   
**_Service Dog Extraordinaire to Blake the Flake_ **

**_SERVICE DOGS ARE PEOPLE TOO!_ **

* * *

**_TO: Winston_ **

**_Is Dad Ok?_ **

**_J_ **

**_PS Tell your father if he calls himself Blake the Flake one more time, I'll do something that we'll both regret. Just don't ask me what it is, as I have to plan it._ **

* * *

**_TO: Jemma_ **

**_Please don't flirt with me like that. You nearly put me in a catatonic state. With my issues… I'm not comfortable… with aggressive flirting._ **

**_Felix_ **


	33. Bike, Boys and Beaches

AKA BAD BOYS BIKER BEACH BONANZA

* * *

Four weeks later

Jemma Simmons arrived to give her boys a proper send off before they left on their week of bikes, beach and debauchery.

"I see you bought the pants from Skull," Garrett catcalled from the corner of the room. "Second skin, Simmons."

She turned and modeled them for him and he whistled in appreciation.

"Go get packed, John," roughly ordered an exasperated Felix so Garrett sauntered off leaving the two of them alone with their chaperone (Winston).

"Now, Felix," Jemma Simmons began slowly and then stopped as she had already accepted that he'd react badly to what she was about to offer. However, that did not stop her. "I know you like clear cut instructions so here they are."

She held out a piece of paper and presented it to him.

"It has what you can do this week," she explained. "Not that you need my permission to do anything but I know you worry. This should relieve any and all concerns."

He bobbed his head and he took the note. He opened it and then sighed after he read it out loud, "I give you my blessings to do anything and everything except get married. Jemma Elizabeth Simmons."

For her generosity, he gave her a long, flat look which caused her to dimple and look cute. When dealing with her harem for the last two months, she had quickly learned to use everything and anything to her advantage as she was outnumbered by three older men who were strategic masterminds. [Except for bowling balls, as that left carnage in its wake.] For added cuteness and increased irresistibility, she blinked her eyelashes at him while she worked her Big Bambi eyes.

Naturally, it didn't work on the most focused of her boy toys.

"Seriously?" he asked. "You think blinking your eyes at me will cause me to get distracted and forget this note? I'm not Garrett."

"I was hoping," she admitted, which caused him to bark a laugh. It was a sign of how relaxed (for Blake) he had gotten in her presence as he permitted himself the rare laugh and the even rarer smile. "Whatever happens, it's ok," she explained to him. "If you and Phil and John…"

"Are you still worried? We told you no more," he gently protested.

"I'm just saying, if it happens, I'm quite ok with it," she explained. Then she stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. "Be careful of your hip. I wish you were taking the Jeep not your bike. I'm sure you didn't clear your mode of transportation with your orthopedic."

"Guilty," he easily admitted. "Now I have to get Winston ready. Winston? Bike ride?"

The dog jumped to attention and wagged his tail in true excitement.

"You know what you need. Helmet and goggles," Blake informed his dog, who ran over to the hallstand, where his equipment was kept. Blake leaned on his cane as he walked over to Winston.

Simmons watched him and she just wished futilely that he'd take the damn Jeep instead of his bike.

"I'll keep an eye on him," promised Phil who had witnessed the tail end of their interaction. "Do I get a goodbye kiss?"

He tilted his head and gave her a proper mouth to mouth kiss with plenty of tongue. She leaned into his embrace and made a little mewl when he separated from her. Since her first (nervous) honest conversation with her harem, she had grown exceeding comfortable with physical affection (kissing) with her boys. Well, two of her boys, as Felix was not very affectionate which she had tried to be understanding as opposed to being hurt.

"I liked my kiss better than the one you gave Felix. Really, a buzz on the cheek?" he whispered. "After two months of quality time with us, you just give the poor man a kiss on the cheek? After the Bowling Bowl Blitzkrieg?"

"Ever since he realized that I caught him in the state of dishabille when he was drugged and unconscious, he's been a little leery about too much physical affection, as he thinks I'm only interested in **_that_** ," she admitted. That was her reason, as opposed to the truth, that Felix Blake wasn't comfortable with physical affection because of his condition. The all too infrequent kiss on the cheek that he initiated, the few times where he permitted himself to entwine his fingers with hers when they watched a movie… the fact that he had to make a true effort to do that made her horribly uneasy about being too affectionate with the other two men.

Besides making her wish for more from him.

But by her very nature, she was affectionate and open, (now that she was learning to trust her boys) which made her wariness with Felix an anathema to her. Finally, Felix had sat her down for a very careful conversation where he had hesitantly informed her that just because he wasn't wired for affection, she shouldn't skimp on Phil and John.

Phil closed his eyes and dimpled. For added affect, he even bit his lip which caused Simmons to poke him and exclaim, "What?"

"Was it necessary to threaten him with a bowling ball in order for him to permit that much?" He finally asked.

"I **_didn't_** ," she protested. Though perhaps, she had. But she had thought that there were no witnesses!

"You are the world's worst liar," Phil informed her. "But keep wearing him down, he'll cede soon enough as he **_does_** like you, which is the problem."

"Does he really?" She plaintively asked, but then changed it a more pride maintaining, "I don't see that being a problem."

"He is worrier, and now he has a new concern that he'll fuck this up by being Blake," he informed her. "He craves affection but the last time he permitted himself to hope with a pretty woman, it was ego-crushing. While I remember only the best, which is why I'd miss it so."

"And Garrett?" Jemma asked.

"Most women don't like mechanical parts," Garrett admitted as he snuck up behind Simmons. "You know, regarding Felix, you will need someone to put suntan lotion on your back when you decide to play beach blanket bingo."

"Seriously," Jemma softly protested. "I don't think it will work."

"Try it," Garrett insisted even while Phil nodded his head in easy agreement. "Seriously a fair skinned maiden in distress, holding out a bottle of coconut infused elixir to save her pale English skin? What enamored and devoted knight wouldn't move mountains or slather on sun tan lotion to save her porcelain skin from damage?"

Phil smirked and Garrett motioned for him to leave. "My turn," he stated.

After Phil left, Garrett held out his arms, and she quickly embraced him. He picked her off the ground and gave her a very long kiss that curled her toes. That done, he gently placed her on the ground.

"How are you?" she asked. "Really?"

"No change," he softly admitted. "Bloodwork's all bad. EKG's got lengths and dips and valleys… the pain is nearly constant. Hey, none of that…"

For her eyes had begun to fill with tears.

"I've had a really good life so far and I'm not planning on leaving just yet. Who's gonna keep an eye on my boys? Seriously, they're a handful and they'll get in trouble if I'm not around."

"No, you lead them into trouble, but honesty makes me admit that they go willingly," she teased, which earned her a big smile.

"Jemma… you know that odds are pretty poor that I'll be actually around when you decide which of us…"

She shook her head and wished he'd stop.

"They're used to being part of a threesome, so you should think about keeping both of them. Phil is a romantic and Felix…. Felix will make sure that your car insurance doesn't lapse and that your car tires are regularly rotated."

"Felix will do more than that," she growled. Her fierce glare of disapproval amused him but he also approved of her defense of Felix.

"Yes, and they're both housebroken," he reminded her. "They'll take really good care of you. You could have brother-husbands."

"It's not legal," she protested.

"It could be a spiritual union," he offered. "Like sister-wives, but brother-husbands. You know, the Tibetans have a concept of Partible paternity. The ancient Hawaiians had the concept of Po'olua and let's not forget about bees. Felix is a drone if I ever knew one."

"I have no desire to lie in bed for years, be repeatedly impregnated and fed jelly all hours of the bloody day," Jemma snapped.

"I can assure you that neither Felix or Phil have any desire to die after having their penis and abdomen ripped off after having sex with you. Plus they'd be deeply offended if they knew you thought sex with them would last for a second or so. And that's the limit of my knowledge of bee sex thanks to Animal Planet. Thank God, as they lost my interested after the penis being severed," John Garrett retorted. In a softer voice, he continued, "I'm just hoping that you'll be open to any of the possibilities which might include being adored in a large bed between two really decent men that would be quite happy to be there with you. They're both really interested, but they're both worried about hurting the other guy."

"How can you be so sure? Did they tell you?" she asked.

"Because I know," he explained. He tapped his neck where one of his cybernetic parts were, and then leaned close to her. "Because if I wasn't dying, you'd have to deal with the strong possibility of being physically adored by three men. Oh Simmons, you'd be our Queen Bee and we'd be your devoted drones."

A light bulb went off in her head, so blindly bright that she was surprised that all of New York, New Jersey and Connecticut weren't blinded.

"You hacked the system," she stated. She didn't bother to keep the admiration from her voice. John Garrett was a devious mastermind of plotting and scheming! And nobody ever suspected John as he was seen as a goof.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"You **_hacked_** the system," she repeated.

"I'm afraid you got me confused with Blue Skies. Have we been introduced? I'm Garrett, I lift heavy objects?" he offered. "I pick them up, and I put them down. Sometimes, I'm permitted to fire large guns."

"What are the odds that of my five eligible bachelors, two would just so horrid that I'd get rid of them immediately… leaving me with three best friends, one of which is quite ill, possibly making me choose between two grieving men of whom I've grown incredibly fond?" she asked.

"Dr. Simmons, you're giving me credit for being smart, and while I'm flattered, I'm not that smart," he said. The geez, shucks ma'am smile completely convinced her.

"You arranged this, that all your names would get drawn. Let's be honest, the three of you are at the higher age range for eligible men for this program."

"That hurt," he mock whimpered even as he gave her a wounded pout complete with quivering lip. "Old men are like Model T Fords, just hang on for the ride once you get them started because you don't know how long the ride will last."

She didn't bother to acknowledge that.

"And Ward hates dogs, and you probably insisted that Felix bring Winston for that reason…. And Jasper… well… we all know about Mr. Sitwell's propensity for dating anything with a quim. You are truly dangerous, Jonathan Garrett."

He continued the act, putting his hands over his face in a shocked (fake) reaction.

"Such language, Dr. Simmons, combined with such … **_suspicion_** … makes me glad that I will not be one of the bachelors left standing at the end. And honestly, I told Felix to bring Winston just to confirm that you liked dogs because Winston and Felix are a matched set."

"You did it," she protested.

The joker façade faded and instead there was a very serious John Garrett.

"Damn straight I did, because I'm taking care of my Lost Boys even after I'm gone. I know someone in the department that 'selects' the matches. I asked him to keep an eye out for a younger woman, not too experienced, who would require my boys to be on their best behavior. That they'd have to be tender and gentle, and they'd quickly become protective. I asked for someone who had extremely high marks for empathy and kindness, but a streak of whimsy who might give both of my Lost Boys a shot at some happiness. Throw in your incredible brain and your cute British accent, it's no wonder both my boys are smitten."

She just looked at him, and he shook his head.

"Had my doubts there for the longest time as you were terrified, but we gradually wore you down. Seriously, I was really worried because you terrified Blake into near catatonia and Phil was really nervous also… and… I was like… this is really not working because you did everything except scream in terror whenever Blake attempted to talk to you. He was calling his therapist every day because you had rattled him that badly. Plus you did throw a bowling ball at him, and I realized… seriously… this was not one of my better ideas."

"So, do they know?" she asked.

"Hell no," he announced. "I'm glad for the boys that you showed up when you did, as I'm running on borrowed time. And I'm also glad that you showed up **_now_** , because I'm running on borrowed time."

"I don't understand," she protested.

"Because I completely underestimated how irresistible Jemma Simmons would be to a tired, battered soul," he explained. "I'd like nothing more than to show you what making love is supposed to be like because you didn't have a good experience with Shit For Brains. However, the soul wants, but the body…. is failing. Quite quickly these days."

He grimaced and shook his head. Sadly. But he was directing a smile towards himself, a sweet, mocking smile.

"Let's say Felix isn't the only one that fears a poor review on the Unofficial Agents of SMUT board." With a gentle hesitancy, he touched her face with his fingers. "You have no idea how much I want…"

A long pause, before he softly continued, "Take good care of my boys, Simmons. Do that for me so I can rest easy."

"Promise," she assured him.

"Thank you. Now, we're all packed and we need to get going. I think you wanted pictures of your harem?" he joked.

* * *

It was surprisingly easy to take a picture or a dozen of her boys with her phone. The first was a rather serious Felix as he groomed the helmet wearing Winston. The helmet had spikes and horns, and he looked rather dangerous, what with it, his matching goggles and his leather vest. Naturally, Winston completely ruined the image as he decided to lick Felix. Repeatedly while Felix grimaced, so she got several good pictures of that.

And Garrett's comments to the contrary, she did not deliberately take a picture of Phil's bum. He just turned at the right time and she got a lovely shot.

Garrett caught her taking a picture of him and he grabbed her phone. He flipped through the pictures and shook his head.

"We want a picture," he informed her as he held her phone out of reach. She jumped unsuccessfully in her attempts to reach it. "We want a picture. And Simmons, seriously, where did you get this picture?"

"No, no, no!" She protested.

"Felix, she got the picture of you changing the tire for Mrs. Roberts in the cafeteria," Garrett loudly announced while Felix groaned loudly. With a surprising high jump, Phil grabbed the phone and looked at the picture.

"Rippling biceps as you jacked her tire. Check. Suit plastered against your frame, due to the drenching rain. Check. The thinness of your dress shirt with the opened collar, displaying everything, as you had removed your tie so not to get it caught into the jack. Check. Shit, Felix, you look **_hot_**."

"Phil!" Jemma protested his betrayal even while Phil tossed the phone at Felix, who then shook his head as he reviewed the pictures.

"She's got pictures of your ass, Coulson," Felix gleefully admitted. "But Garrett didn't mention this picture."

"What?" Garrett exclaimed as he reached for the phone.

"She got one of the three of us," Felix stated. "Fortunately, all clothed. All upright. But it's still embarrassing, as I think we were pretty young at the time. Seriously, skinny ties. Damn, we had really fucking awesome hair back then. Before our hair started receding like the Jersey coast after Hurricane Sandy."

Garrett took the phone, whistled and shook his head. "Why this picture?"

"I haven't been able to get a picture of you three together and this was the only one I could find," she explained. "I mean, I'm dating all of you, shouldn't I have a photo?"

The three men looked at each other, obviously confused by Simmons Sense, and then Garrett brightened. "Group pic!" he loudly announced as he picked up Simmons while she shrieked. "Gather 'round boys, and help me hold up Simmons."

* * *

It wasn't one of their long bike marathon rides. In fact, it was pretty short as it was only a few hours on the road. However by the time Blake and Garrett pulled into the driveway of their rental, Blake was in serious pain and Garrett was on the bike due to sheer force of personality as he had faded fast. However, being men, they put their bikes away, managed to drag their bags in the front hall where they left them.

That done, they staggered to the back porch which overlooked the private beach and the Atlantic Ocean. There was a large rattan reclining love chair, so they collapsed into it. It was a tight fit, but for now, it would do.

"This is amazing," Phil said to Blake.

"Good job," Garrett murmured before he fell asleep on Felix's shoulder. Felix just rubbed his eyes as he didn't trust his voice. Instead he just stared at the waves.


	34. Seasons in the Sun

_I'm surprised that I'm getting a few request for John Garrett not to die. '_

_Who said John was the unlucky one?_

_I take lessons in torture from Lachesis Grimm after all. (Go read her story is ab fab)_

* * *

Felix finally decided to break the oppressive silence in his own unique way. "Coulson, Garrett is drooling on me," he whined.

Phil snorted a laugh while a drowsy Garrett mumbled, "But he's my Blakey Blanky. How long have I been asleep?"

"Two hours," Blake advised. "Think you can get up? Because we can set this place up so you can actually go au naturel if you want. Fitz sent a cloaking device, so if you desired, you could frisk a la fresco. That way we don't have to worry about any sightseeing Hydra Agents deciding that they like your bling and ruining my vacation."

"But you'd save me, wouldn't you, Pookie bear?" John asked. At Blake's eye roll, Garrett turned towards Phil. "Come on, Steve Rogers would help prevent an injured and infirmed Agent of Shield from being captured by the Evil Octopus People."

"Speaking of injured and infirmed," Felix began. "Time for your shot."

"What shot?" Garrett asked, even as Phil prepped John's arm with alcohol and then jabbed his bicep.

"The shot the doctors told me that you have to get daily so they'd permit you to come out here," Phil reminded him even while Garrett grimaced in true pain. "Oh, I forgot, you were sleeping."

"I can't believe you're wasting alcohol," Garrett protested. "And that hurt, you sadistic bastard. My mom used to blow on my cuts to take the sting away when she dabbed alcohol on them."

"I'm terribly sorry John. I don't think our relationship qualifies you for blow jobs," Phil quietly informed Garrett.

Garrett roared loudly, scaring the seagulls who were sitting on the beach, plainly wondering when the three men would get off their lazy asses and throw them their bread tithe.

"For the love of God, there is no relationship occurring here," protested very exasperated Blake. "We were never in one to begin with."

Garrett sighed and looked at Phil, then turned his head back to Blake. "Seriously, Blake. We were fucking each other for years, and I know you're not a homophobe. Why don't you admit that we were in a relationship? An odd one, but never the less a relationship? At the end of my life, it's rather upsetting to me that one of the parties in the longest relationship I've ever been in, flatly denies it was ever a relationship," Garrett confessed.

"Because I fuck up relationships," Felix slowly and painfully admitted. "I have just you two and Winston… and… therefore no relationship existed. Never. Ever."

He flinched at that painful confession regarding his personal life.

"I think I need to walk for a bit as my hip is bothering me."

He stood, took a moment to steady himself and walked towards the house. "Want to stake out the bedrooms?"

"Sure," Phil easily agreed. "Come on, Tigger, let's go!"

* * *

John Garrett took the best room, naturally, with the biggest bed. He closed the window shades, and then he removed his ever present turtleneck. That done, he stretched and then kicked off his shoes.

"Carry on boys," he ordered. "I got the biggest and best, so fight among yourselves."

"Wait, I want to take a look at your back," Phil ordered.

"That's a burn," Felix announced. "Infected. I'll get the kit."

"Seriously?" Garrett asked. "I'm **_dying_**. Must you?"

'Yes, because a quick fast death is so much less fuss than you lingering for month as your infected body parts fall off," Felix dryly stated as he reached for the med kit. He rummaged for a bit and then pulled out another syringe. "Smile."

He hit Garrett with another dose of nanobots and Garrett then sat on the edge of the bed. "I feel weird. A little woozy."

"Why don't you crash for a bit? We'll wake you up when the steaks are done?" Felix suggested.

"Sounds good," Garrett admitted. "I know I'm dying, but… they told me a few more months. But I'm tired…."

"Sleep," Phil prompted.

* * *

"His lips were blue," Felix informed Phil when they met in the kitchen. He opened the fridge and pulled out three steaks while Phil appeared quite confused at the steaks appearing as if by magic. Coulson walked over to the fridge, opened it and looked at Felix.

"The fridge is stocked with John's favorites?" Phil questioned. "Even his hot sauce?"

"When I rented the house, I asked the owner to stock the kitchen as I explained what our outing was and my physical limitations. Anyway, his lips were blue. Scanner also said that the bots were inactive. Is there a concentration threshold where they activate?

"Fitz stated that he wasn't sure if this would work…." Phil reminded Felix.

"I know, I was there for the technobabble," Felix retorted. "Fortunately my father was an electrician so I was able to get the gist of this Scottish ramblings. The circuits that power his cybernetics have intermittent connections as they've corroded. They need to be rebuilt however, since they are wired into John's brain, heart and central nervous system…we just can't open him up and replace them without doing serious damage."

He stopped.

"If the bots can rebuild them, they can be restarted, however they can't reboot his system as his BIOS is completely Swiss Cheesed. So Fitz has managed to create little itty bitty nanobots in a biological medium that will recreate the pathways along with rewriting his BIOS," stated Felix. "Funny, Simmons' BFF is not a programmer and I'm sure he's not capable of creating a biological medium to transport his bots to Garrett's spinal cord."

Phil opened his mouth in mock protest while Felix grimaced.

"Yes, we've got Lost Tres Amigos working on it," Felix growled. "On one hand, I'm really glad that we've got all hands on deck for this, on the other, I'm not too sure about Hacker Girl."

"She'll never live down the coffee cataclysm, will she?" Phil asked. "However, what's really got you on edge? It's not just John."

Felix Blake aggressively chopped shallots for the marinade and he didn't speak. He finally put the knife down and voiced, "I'm not an idiot."

"I've never said that you were," Phil prompted, as he needed to let Felix set the pace for this conversation.

"I know the three of us were in a relationship," he stated. "Unlike you and John, I realized it after only three months of sleep overs."

With that surprisingly astute and astringent comment, he neatly swiped the shallots into a food processor and poured the olive oil in.

"And you thought not to mention it…. Why?" Phil hesitantly asked. To be honest, he wasn't sure how he would have reacted then, if the difficulties they were having now were any indication.

"Whole trunk load of reasons. You already had run away once because of my fair Irish skin and I liked not being alone. To have people that were willing to be with me, not because I could buy them something they wanted, but because they wanted to be with me." He flashed a quick, pained grin. "Plus one of the voices in my head sounds a lot like my Old Man."

"You've only mentioned him twice in all the years I've known you, both tonight," Phil stated. "What does the Old Man say?"

"A whole hell of a lot, none of it nice as the WWII really fucked him up." Felix admitted. At Phil's arched eyebrow, he added, "Cocksucker is the nicest thing he's called me in the last few years. I tell Dad, it is what it is, but that just gets him angrier and nastier. His favorite rant was when I was younger, that I was a cock sucker, taking it up the arse, nancy boy. It was the drink talking, I know, but I never stopped trying to be fucking perfect for him. When he died, I felt relief because I would never hear him again… and then one of my little voices decides to sound like the Old Man. My naysayers in my head are an Italian Princess and my Old Man."

He placed the lid back on the food processor and hit blend. After a sufficient time, he stopped the processor and then began to furiously stab at an innocent flank steak with a large fork.

"You're supposed to tenderize, not pulverize," Phil carefully inserted as he feared that Felix would use the fork on him.

When Felix put the fork down, Phil deliberately and cautiously placed his arm around Felix and then leaned towards him. They kissed, a proper kiss. Not their usual quick kiss, as they wanted to get to the good stuff and quickly, but a long, slow kiss. As he feared, Felix pulled away first, and said one word, "Simmons."

"Hush," softly protested Phil as he brushed his hand against Felix's rough stubble. "We were involved for how long and I never gave you a proper kiss? How terribly, terribly rude of me."

"Simmons," Felix softly repeated as though her name was a benediction or a curse or both.

"Listen to me. I love you, asshole," Phil stated with great sincerity even while his mind was reeling, because he had felt… **_felt_** … Blake's stubble. Had felt Blake's breath against his skin when they had embraced…

But he couldn't feel Blake's shirt… so was… his condition resolving itself? Was it **_really_** psychosomatic?

"Thanks, Phil. That was really fucking romantic," Felix quipped which broke the mood as both men snickered. "Suggestion? That declaration won't work on Simmons."

"We don't do romantic, Felix. That's not how we roll," Garrett announced from the kitchen doorway. He was leaning, attempting to appear casual, but in reality, he was leaning on the wall for support. "We're just best friends who insist on insulting each other to hide our deep, heartfelt feelings."

"I thought you needed a nap, old man," Phil protested.

"Phil just proved my point." Garrett nodded his head in easy agreement.

"I'm not insulting you. I'm telling you the truth, and you are old!"

"Anyway, I took a quick nap and then I realized when I woke, that as a growing boy, I was really hungry. So I wanted to see what was up with the steaks. To my horror, the steaks aren't done because Felix is wearing his Kiss the Cook apron and got waylaid by the sous chef. I'm hungry, Seymour. Feed me."

Then he broke out in song, substituting "Feed me, Blake" for "Feed me, Seymour".

Felix limped over to the fridge and grabbed a container. He then threw it at Garrett and told him to sit down and for the love of God to stop singing as the police were being called for a noise disturbance.

"Don't I get a kiss?" Garrett asked. He looked at both men, who in turn gave him a crude salute.

* * *

"This bikini or that bikini?" Simmons asked Skye as they were having an emergency Bad Girl Shopping Spree. One was black and slinky and the other one was multicolored and had cut outs.

"I'm suggesting a tankini," Fitz inserted. "And put that one down, Skye. That is two postage stamps and piece of dental floss. She'd never be able to pull off that look and I am refusing to even let her try that on."

"I could rock that look," protested an embarrassed Simmons.

"On your wedding night, yes. On a public beach, no, no, no. Trip?" Fitz asked Antoine Triplett who had tagged along. Somehow Trip had been become part of their odd little gang.

"Hell no. I'm thinking one piece," admitted Trip.

"I want to be sexy," protested Simmons.

"Jemma, you're cute. Just accept that," Trip informed her. He shot a sly look at Fitz before he merrily continued. "Cute can be sexy, just by being cute. Cute trying to be sexy is so forced and it never, ever works."

"But a two piece could be more…." Simmons began and then stopped when she was faced with three perfect "O"s of astonishment from her posse.

"Simmons!" Fitz exclaimed. His hands were on his hip and she feared she was about to get one of his lectures on her sex life.

"You and I need to talk, Skye, you handle Fitz," Trip informed Skye. With a gentle hand, he pulled her away from her group and sat her down in a chair. "What's your objective in this mission?"

"They've been perfectly respectful to me since we started dating. I was hoping perhaps… for a little shenanigans?" She admitted. "Not too much, but some? I mean, it can't be too much because of John, but… maybe he'd like to look?"

"Hmm… maybe some touching too?" Trip asked even as Simmons colored.

"They've been really perfectly respectful," she repeated.

"In other words, they've kept their hands to themselves," Trip stated. "Well, tankini then, with a tie, because I detect some suntan lotion shenanigans in your future. God knows I'll have to make sure my boy Fitz doesn't burn. So who's your favorite? I promise I won't tell anyone."

"They each have their unique traits that make them utterly wonderful and quite exasperating," which her rote answer when asked.

"Seriously, **_Blake_**?" he asked. "I don't think he smiles, Simmons. You're just so bubbly and he's just… constipated."

"He's not! He's thoughtful, very intense and an utterly superb kisser," she informed a stunned Trip. "I can just imagine that with the effort he puts into kissing, having sex with him would be a literal overdose of ecstasy. Especially as he's really quite…"

She placed her hands over her mouth and Trip stared at her as though he had witnessed a horrific traffic accident on I95 where there had been no survivors.

"How would you know that, Dr. Simmons?" Trip's voice went up three octaves.

She hid her face behind her hands and said nothing.

"Did you pull his physical?" Trip asked.

Grateful for an excuse, any excuse that was remotely plausible, she nodded.

"You naughty girl!"

* * *

Since it was just the three of them combined with the Fitz view disabler, they dressed appropriately. That meant John and Phil went shirtless (with a great deal of sun screen) while Felix wore shorts and they didn't care one bit about their physical scars (Phil and Felix) and their value added parts (John). They spent the days (and nights) together, sometimes in silence, sometimes in talking jags that lasted for hours that started off with a simple, "Do you remember when…" and they discussed John's funeral, what he wanted and what was feasible. (And Felix found himself agreeing to play guitar even if Phil had to motivate him with a Taser, and there was no way in hell would they permit a picture of John flipping the bird to be his memorial picture).

They slept in the same bed, but that was it. They rotated through their various bedrooms, with John in the middle, but nothing else.

Naturally it had to end.

"Today's Thursday," Phil greeted them when they meandered down to the kitchen for breakfast.

Felix ignored him as was his wont until his blood cells were properly caffeinated. After his second cup, he pointed to his legs. He was wearing jeans and Garrett nodded.

"First of all, I thought she was only coming for a day, then it turned into two, with her buddies and now she's here for four," Felix protested.

It was a white lie, as Phil had reached out to Simmons, invited her and her posse (Fitz) to come up earlier because even with his daily dosage of nanobots, the bots were still inactive in John Garrett.

"Weather's supposed to be bad when she was originally planning on being here," Phil reminded Felix. "You agreed, but jeans? Really? It's supposed to be in the nineties today."

"I don't want my surgical scars on display," was all Felix said.

"And I'll wear my turtle neck so when we both collapse in a pile from pride and hyperthermia, turn the garden hose on us. Wontcha Phil?" Garrett quipped. "And while we're talking about hot and flustered, do you think Simmons will wear a bikini?"

"I'm sure she'll wear a nice sensible burqa," dryly added Felix. His retort caused Phil Coulson to spit out his coffee, and caused a loud protest from Felix. "Can't we take you anywhere, Coulson? You better clean that up as I put a security deposit down."

With that comment, he grabbed his breakfast and called for Winston.

"Winston, beach?" He asked.

The two left and John leaned towards Phil. "Email Simmons and tell her to warn her group about Felix's scars so they don't stare at them. I'll get out of his jeans…"

The two men proceeded to simper at each other, laughed uncontrollably and then John continued, "And into shorts. If I wear a t-shirt and show off my burns, it'll probably convince him, it's ok. His legs look like zippered him back together again so I can understand not wanting to be stared at. So is there anything else you want to tell me?"

John's piercing glare at Coulson was followed by silence.

"You've been acting different. You're a little more tactile," Garrett offered.

"I think I've felt a few things since we came here. When I tap my hands together, I can't feel it, but I felt Blake's stubble and that your neck implant is running hot."

"That's **_incredible_** , why didn't you or Blake tell me?" Garrett asked. "They said it was in your head, and you're finally emotionally working through whatever caused your sensory blockage."

"I didn't tell Blake yet," Phil admitted. "I am just not positive that this is really happening, as it's so infrequent."

"I have an idea. You close your eyes. I punch you really hard for not telling us, and you can tell me where I hit you?"

Garrett's gleeful grin, the insane smirk of a confirmed madman, a constant in his chaotic life that he might never see again made Phil turn away.

"What if it's my mind playing tricks on me?" Phil asked. "I'll follow up on Monday when we're back, but I don't want to get Blake's hopes up."

Or mine, he thought

* * *

**_Jemma,_ **

**_Hope this catches you before you leave._ **

**_Felix is being Felix. He's refusing to wear shorts once your team arrives because he thinks everyone will stare at his surgical scars. Can you warn your team that they're pretty bad and please NOT to stare?_ **

**_John may forgo the usual turtle neck, so his burns will be pretty obvious._ **

**_Thanks_ **

**_Phil_ **

**_Phil_ **

**_They've been warned and promise to behave. How's he doing? What with the horde about to descend upon him?_ **

**_How is JOHN?_ **

**_And how are you?_ **

**_J_ **

**_Jemma,_ **

**_Blake's tense because he doesn't really know Trip at all, and Skye and Fitz only slightly better. But he's the one that suggested getting Los Tres Amigos here earlier as John's condition is deteriorating. The little guys aren't doing anything._ **

**_John is being a pain in my ass. Snarky, uncontrollably loud mouth and flatly refusing to behave. He went dune buggying yesterday. It was the four of us, including Winston, and it was a great deal of fun. He spent all his energy on that, so last night we stayed with him as he looked ashen._ **

**_And I'm…tired… emotionally. We did some hashing out of final requests, so we know what to do._ **

**_Phil_ **

**_Call me when you pull into Shore Road._ **

* * *

Trip pulled into the driveway and whistled, "Are you sure we're at the right house, Simmons?"

"Yes, I recognized the four guys standing by the door," she assured him. There was Garrett, in a t-shirt! Phil, Winston and Felix, who was actually wearing shorts, though he had Winston standing in front of his legs.

"My God, he does have a lot of scars," Skye blurted even as Fitz hushed her.

"Better say it now, then in front of him. Just don't look at them," Trip suggested.

"What if I do look at them and he notices?" Skye nervously questioned. "We've just gotten to the point where he doesn't hate me. I'm looking forward to reaching the level where he tolerates me."

"He doesn't hate you," Jemma insisted. "He doesn't."

"Tell him you're looking at him to find out if what is said about him is true," offered a straight faced Trip. "That he's hung like…"

* * *

"Do you have any idea why everyone is hitting Trip and screaming loud enough so we can hear them?" Felix asked Garrett. "He's your protégé."

The Escalade stopped short, and the younger agents continued waving their hands and screaming even while a grinning Trip laughed and protected his head.

Felix smiled a fake smile and turned to face Phil, "I'm beginning to regret this. Too late to cancel?"

Garrett flashed a bright smile, "Come on, it'll be fun. After I'm gone, you'll see these two pretty girls, think of me, and I'll be there."

* * *

_Goodbye my friend it's hard to die_   
_When all the birds are singing in the sky_   
_Now that spring is in the air_   
_Pretty girls are everywhere_   
_Think of me and I'll be there_

_We had joy we had fun we had seasons in the sun  
But the hills that we climbed were just seasons out of time _

_TERRY JACKS_


	35. Bad Girl Shenanigans

The four finally arrived and they began to unpack. Felix forced himself to grimace a smile until he saw a rather familiar hard case get pulled out of the truck's rear passenger seat. Then he didn't even pretend to be happy, instead he hit John Garrett with his cane, HARD.

"Is that my Fender?" he growled. "How the holy fuck did they get my guitar, Garrett?"

"John said to bring it," Simmons shyly offered. "He said you wanted to bring it but it wouldn't fit on the bike. And I would really like to hear you play. You'll play for me, won't you?"

She gave Felix Blake a bright, British smile and Felix stood frozen like a deer in headlights, unable to withstand the massive onslaught of Jemma Simmon's utter adorability. She stood on her toes and gave him a peck on the cheek. One suitor suitably vanquished, she then proceeded to snog her other boys into utter submission before she returned back to Felix Blake. He had regained use of his motor muscles, so she deliberately slipped her hand into his and asked him for a tour.

"After you put your Fender away," she admitted. "You must be a serious guitar player if you have a humidifier for them."

Felix Blake had been a field agent for years before being bumped into his current role. He had witnessed a great many things, including a big scaly flying reptilian thing that decided to have an eppie and drop a building on him, but nothing shocked him to the very core like the realization that Jemma Simmons had been in his Holy of Holy, his music room.

Hell, he didn't even permit John or Phil into it on any regular frequency and Winston had to swear on his left paw that he'd behave.

"You haven't seen my music room," he protested.

Good Lord, Simmons had already gotten quite the gander at his penis, couldn't he have his one sanctuary? That meant she had probably seen the one faded picture he still had of his mother, the one he had carefully hidden so his father had never found it after his mother had left.

She had promised to come back for him, but she never had.

When he had finally advanced to Level 5, he had taken a long bike ride and he finally found her neglected grave that had been overgrown with weeds. On that day, he had cleared it, planted roses and left, never to return. Least he hadn't promised he'd be back. After a life time of broken promises, Felix Blake never made promises that he couldn't keep.

"Felix, I was very careful when I took it out of the humidifier. I was very cautious when we put it in the passenger seat. It was safe and secure. We even used a blanket to pad it and we made sure the air conditioning was on."

"You got into my apartment?" Felix protested. "It's locked. It's got an alarm."

"John gave me keys and showed me how to set the alarm. He said that you wanted me to have a set so I could pop over anytime," she said brightly. "I even have keys to Phil's place."

Phil made a very loud noise that sounded like he was being strangled and Simmons' expressive face fell.

"He told me that you wanted me to have keys," she softly repeated. Her eyes got Bambi wide, really Bambi wide, not the fake routine she gave him when she was tried to play him, but really, seriously innocently Bambi and her lip quivered because he was being an absolute asshole. "He didn't lie to me, did he?"

She had keys to his apartment, wasn't that a positive step in their relationship?

Like they were having regularly unplanned sleepovers? And she was leaving a spare set of clothes at his place just to be safe? And a toothbrush? And shampoo and conditioner because she didn't like what he used.

Like Normal (NOT FELIX BLAKE) people did?

And all he could think about was that she had been in his music room, where he hid from the world when he got too Flakey Blakey.

"He said you wanted me to bring your guitar." She repeated herself, as though she needed reassurance, which meant he was being a real asshole.

"It's ok," he insisted. "I would have liked to have been the one to give the key to you, as it's MY name on the DEED, Garrett. But consider it a standing invitation to visit whenever you want. And I'm glad you brought my guitar."

Her relieved smile was like a sunrise. "I was worried, as you looked angry."

"I never look happy," he softly interrupted. "John's the one that grins like a Cheshire Cat. You should know that by now, I'm the dour one of your pair and a spare."

"You'll play for me?" Jemma asked. "John says you're a wonderful player and I'd love to hear you play."

"Not that good, just an amateur," he modestly insisted.

"That's not what John says," was her quick retort. She gave him another kiss on his cheek, which embarrassed him as her posse was standing there, slackjawed as though they were attending a live presentation of Beauty and the Beast and he desired nothing more than to savagely tell off Ms. Potts (Or Mary Sue Pootz) because he might be a Grade A freak starring in his own little Freak Show as the prime attraction, Simmons was not part of the show.

Simmons easily defused his anger by the placement of her hand on his cheek and a whispered, "I don't consider you a spare. I consider you a very essential part of my harem."

"You never know when you might need a tire changed," he quipped. God, couldn't he keep his mouth shut?

"I'm not changing any tires until I kick 'em," she insisted even as her team disappeared to put their luggage away. Phil Coulson carefully carried Felix's guitar into the house. "I don't think they need to change. Any of them. They've got a great deal of tread left."

"Really?" he asked. With a sideways glance at her, he continued, "You really don't want to change anything about me? Be honest."

"Let's give me a tour and we can talk," she suggested.

He struggled to smile, to hide the sick feeling in his stomach, at having failed again, but Simmons shook her head. She entwined her arm with his and squeezed his hand.

"I just wish you would be a little more comfortable being physically affectionate with me," she softly admitted. "I know **_why_** you're not comfortable, but I do cherish the times you permit yourself. I hoped that if we could have a little time to ourselves, you might feel comfortable being a little naughty with me."

He leaned towards her before he spoke, not wishing anyone to overhear. "I wish I could, Simmons. You have no idea how much I wish. I worry… oh God do I worry, that I might want to be more than a little naughty with you. Especially after that sweet little fantasy you gave me."

"I wouldn't mind you being more than a little naughty," She assured him. "In fact, I very much look forward to it. And I'm glad you liked my little fantasy, but I'm quite sure that the reality will be much better as my fantasy was limited by my inexperience."

He looked at the floor as though he was seriously pondering her request and then glanced her way.

"You're not ready for it," he stated. "You're not. If you have to hide behind the term frickle frackle, then you're not ready for the physical reality. When you decide to have sex with someone, you need to be able to look into their eyes and tell them what you want. It's doesn't matter if you blush, or you stumble and stutter over the words. But what matters is that you voice your desires. Can you honestly do that? With me? "

She looked into his eyes, and he gentle prompted, "Say it. Tell me you'd like to cuddle under the moonlight. There's a chaise lounge, we could be next to each other."

Her mouth opened and he looked so damn hopeful, that she was about to prove his doubts wrong. That his concerns were needless, that it was just the OCD talking.

"You just tell me what you want me to do. Tell me that you want me to kiss you? That you want me to touch you under the moonlight? If you're ready for it, you should be able to say, Felix, please touch me."

And she tried, oh she tried to find her sexy vixen inner self, that would love to frickle frackle… have some serious heavy petting with Felix, who kissed like a dream, but her inner vamp had taken the week off. His hopeful look crumbled into dust even while her heart broke because he was so terribly disappointed.

"You want naughtiness, but I'm not the lucky bachelor," he softly realized. "Story of my life."

Jemma Simmons whose goal in life was to be a nice girl, (Because she had dealt with jealous bitches most of her life and remembered the painful interactions all too well) struggled to protest. Felix Blake just took her hands and squeezed them.

"Don't apologize. We've told you countless times that we want you to feel comfortable expressing your needs and desires. You desire me to be more demonstrative, to be more physically affectionate with you. I'll work on it," he assured her. "Any more requests?"

"I like it when you hold my hand when we watch movies," she shyly admitted.

"Garrett has decided that we're watching **_JAWS_** tonight," Blake informed her. "We told him that we weren't watching any more of his movie requests on this vacation, so to make it a good one."

"Save me the seat next to you," she requested. "Can you do that?"

Shy smile while he nodded his head.

"Let me show you where your room is," he offered.

* * *

Dealing with Tony Stark was a far cry from dealing with Leo Fitz, Phil soon realized. Threatening to TASER Fitz wouldn't work, because he just couldn't even think of harming the younger man. Tony Stark? Hell yes, 50,000 volts to the sternum. Bam, bam, bam – just to shut him up. Not so Fitz.

"The bots are inactive and his blood levels are dropping," Phil Coulson informed Fitz. He handed him a tablet. "Here's every scan we've done since we started injecting him with the bots. Is there a threshold that needs to be reached?"

"They're self-activating. John's battery pack should be generating enough electricity so they activate."

"The charge in the battery is pretty low," Phil admitted. "Is there anything else we can do? Besides take him back to HQ and hook him up to jet engine?"

Fitz took a look at the readings and shook his head, "His battery is failing. I wasn't anticipating that it would fail this quickly. We can't replace his battery, so we'd need something with a sustained burst of high voltage and high current electricity to activate the bots, because once they started, they'd rebuild everything including the battery cell."

They discussed John's health in detail for a bit with an earnest Fitz promising that he'd put more effort into finding a solution.

Then Phil grabbed Fitz by the forearm and squeezed. It was the hardest thing he ever done in his life but he assured Fitz that it was OK if he couldn't find a solution. "Tell your team that also," Phil insisted. "Now take a breather, and enjoy the beach. I expect you in the water in thirty minutes."

He turned to leave, but Phil had commanded people for a while, was quite familiar with zealous, well-meant insubordination, so he turned back to Fitz. "That's an order."

* * *

Jemma Simmons was in a state of sheer, overwhelming terror. She had easily defended her multiple doctorates to professor who refused to believe that a punk kid from Lancashire would know anything about biochemistry. However, the very idea of wearing a tankini in front of her harem had her hiding behind the door.

She had finally gone shopping on her own and had bought a bikini with a sheer tankini top. Now standing in her room, in front of the mirror, she realized how sheer it was. They could see everything!

There was a knock on her door and she squeaked.

* * *

"Kids are splashing in the ocean," Felix informed Phil. "We seem to be missing Ringleader Simmons however."

"You're right," Phil admitted while Garrett agreed that yes, their queen bee was missing.

He offered to find her and meandered towards the house, leaving Phil and Felix alone. With John gone, Phil gave a brief overview of the team's attempts at restoring John's cybernetics including the difficulty with the power source. Felix asked a few questions and then admitted what they had both known; that they were grasping at straws.

"Oh, I better warn you, Simmons seems to be a woman on a mission this week."

"I am not sure if you could say anything more fear inducing, except for 'Loki is back and wants to say hi'," Phil easily admitted. "What's her mission?"

"Exploring her sexuality," Felix stated. "Wanting to leave us in physical thrall."

"No. **_SIMMONS_**?!" Phil asked. "Simmons? Jemma 'I never met a Cardigan that I didn't like' Simmons?"

"Do I have to remind you what happened when I made the comment about Jessica Fletcher? She bought those leather riding pants that she needs use a long shoe horn and cornstarch to get into. I bet you that she'll try to make a man out of one of us while she's here," Felix offered. "To clarify, I don't think she'll seduce one of us this weekend, but I think that she'll do some discovering with a helpful devotee."

"Deal," Phil agreed. "How much of a friendly wager?"

"$50?" Felix suggested.

"Sure. Why do you think this?"

"She expressed a desire to be a little naughty to me. However, I am not the lucky bachelor," Felix explained. He looked at his cane, the physical reminder of the last time Jemma Simmons tried to be bold and audacious, and quipped, "How's your life insurance?"

"Up to date," Phil promised. "This isn't a fair bet, Felix. You had prior knowledge."

Felix then sighed. A loud disappointed sigh. "I'm beginning to regret that I was noble."

"Why do you say that?" Phil questioned.

"Take a look over yonder and understand that I both admire and hate you," Felix admitted. "If you're the lucky bachelor."

"Make sure it's a nice funeral," Phil requested when he saw how little Jemma Simmons was wearing. It was perfectly respectful, covered everything but it was sheer and …. She was holding out a bottle of suntan lotion and smiling at them.

"Can someone put this on my back, please?" she asked.

"Phil," Felix prompted. "Your death awaits. Good knowing you, bro. I'll play for you too."

* * *

"I'm coming," Jemma announced when she heard the knock on her door. She took a deep breath and opened the door to discover John Garrett.

He looked up, he looked down and he loudly announced, "Fuck me, Simmons. Shit, I mean, my God, that outfit should be illegal. We're old men, Simmons. You've already maimed and crippled us with a bowling ball, but that bathing suit is almost a physical assault!"

"Should I change?" She nervously asked.

Garrett laughed and shook his head. "Hell, no! Bring your suntan lotion and loudly announce, 'Moisturize me' and your minions will fall over themselves to assist you."

"I'm not Lady Cassandra from Dr. Who," she laughingly protested.

"Oh no, Cassandra most assuredly didn't have a body like that," he admitted. "Now, come on. Let's go!"

* * *

"Now hold your hair up," Phil requested as he put the suntan lotion on one hand. He was hyperaware of everything, the sound of the ocean, the smell of the suntan lotion (coconut, his mind helpfully supplied), and the amused yet frustrated look in Blake's eyes. The perfume… "You're wearing the Penhaligons English Fern?"

"I wore it for you," she admitted.

"Thank you," he murmured. Then he warned, "Ears."

Carefully and methodically, he made sure her ears were covered in suntan lotion. Then her neck which he deliberately did as slowly and as seductively as possible. The moment of truth came and she smiled up at him, trusting and sweet completely at odds with the rather devilish look in her eyes. "Don't forget my back. Would you mind making sure that you get the areas under the straps? Just in case the straps move?"

"Absolutely," he assured her. "Sit down on the barstool and lean forward. Hold your hair again, please."

She did so. And Phil, being Phil, took a piece of ice and ran it up her spine. Her bloodcurdling screams were shrill and quite worth it. Blake observed his deception and lifted his glass in approval. Really when it was the three of them against Jemma Simmons, they needed as much support and backup as they could arrange.

"That's wasn't **_nice_** ," she protested after she stopped screaming.

"Since you're playing with fire, I figured I should cool you off before you get burned," he explained.

* * *

Her attempts at being a femme fatale were horribly derailed by her boys. They weren't laughing at her, thank goodness, but they were being difficult and playful and exasperating and… difficult. They were **_teasing_** her, she quickly realized, which meant that she had been completely accepted as part of their group. It was a compliment, she realized, but it naturally had happened when she wanted to be seen as well… **_sexy_** … not one of the guys.

"You look hot," Felix informed her. She was about to thank him for the compliment when he handed her a large, ice filled drink. "This will help cool you down."

And the industrial size super soaker water guns which caused a full blown water fight, except for Felix who refused to be put at risk for permanently being maimed.

* * *

She did get to sit next to Felix while they watched JAWS. It was a tight fit as it was Felix, Winston and her in the love seat, but Felix actually placed her arm around her. It was far better than hand holding as he permitted himself to play with her hair. He was quite gentle as he teased her hair and it was rather erotic, Jemma realized.

"You look exhausted," she whispered. "So does Phil."

"Am," he admitted. "Last night was a rough one. John was in a great deal of pain. Massage seems to help, but last night the pain was intractable. We couldn't break it until late… or early."

"I can watch him tonight," she offered.

"Don't worry. We're fine. It's your vacation," he protested. "Sleep in, Phil will make waffles tomorrow. Cheddar cheese, apple and prosciutto waffles."

Phil was asleep before the second victim was turned into shark chum and Felix followed suit in a little bit. His head rested on her shoulder and it was really quite intimate. That in his sleep, he had instinctively leaned towards her. The rational part of her as saying it meant nothing, but her emotional side was delighted.

The two men were still slept when the movie ended, and John Garrett shook his head in fond exasperation.

"I'll watch you tonight," Jemma offered. "The boys need their sleep."

* * *

"Come on," John Garrett insisted. He patted the bed next to him. "I promise you that the South will not rise again."

For a brief moment, she had no idea what he meant, but the Garrett Grin made his meaning quite clear. Her blushing made him grin ever broader. He was sitting on the bed, wearing a t-shirt and long flannel pants. Jemma Simmons didn't answer, instead she bit her lip as indecision overwhelmed her.

"Seriously, it's a big bed. I'm in no condition to do unspeakable things to you, so which side? If you insist on sitting on the settee, I will sleep on the floor and you will feel guilty."

"It's not that. There's a real reason why I offered to watch you tonight, besides the fact the boys are quite exhausted," she explained as she sat next to him on the bed. "I wonder if we could cuddle."

Really, she had attempted to explore the physical realm with both Felix and Phil and had failed. Perhaps because she hadn't come right out and expressed her desire. No, she had tried for more by being sex kittenish, and well, she just didn't have it.

Silence so profound that it nearly freaked her out, because she had done what Felix had suggested to her. To speak of her desires, **_openly_**. Finally, she had to look at John. To her deep surprise, John just stared at her, his jaw agape, which meant that Jonathan Garrett was speechless for the first time in all of recorded history. He pointed his index finger at himself, and tilted his head even while he mouthed, "With me?"

"Yes, with you," she stated.

"Did they talk you into this? You know, give John a few happy memories before he shuffles off the mortal coil? Because if they did, and you're offering this because they guilted you into it, I'll be so furious with them." John's voice was tightly controlled.

"Why do you think they asked me?"

He interrupted, "Because it's something I want, and it's be like the Make a Wish Foundation. You know, give the dying man some happy moments. Good God, Simmons, you're fucking beautiful. You are unbelievably compassionate and just a really nice person. Why would you want to cuddle with John Garrett, Human Cyborg, except for giving me a Make a Wish moment? Seriously, isn't this what this entire vacation is about? For me to die happy?"

"Mr. Garrett," she enunciated. "I asked because I would like to cuddle with one of my harem. I wanted to be a little naughty this vacation, and you're by far the naughtiest and most wayward of my boys. Both of the others are too bloody principled to even to permit themselves to be tempted to the dark side. Now get on the bed before I get my bowling ball and get you supine and on your back that way."

Her British accent added loads of snippiness to her annoyance and John Garrett gave her a very slow smile.

"You didn't bring it, Jemma," he teased. "Or should I say, Mistress Jemma."

"I did too," she stated. She glared at him, crossed her arms and John Garrett immediately crawled into bed. "I felt it best to leave it in the car. Do not make me get it."

He patted the bed next to him, "Come on."

* * *

She knew too much about his condition. The implants, the various wires and how much pain he was in, so she wasn't sure where to place her hands, how to positon herself. He extended his left arm, and instructed her to next to him before he clasped her left hand. That completed, he rolled towards her so he was looking down at her. His blue eyes were exhausted but his smile was one of astonishment.

"How naughty do you want to be? I can't be very naughty I'm afraid," he softly admitted. "Let's hash this out."

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "Kissing would be lovely."

"I can do that," was his easy retort. "Touching?"

She nodded and he leaned towards her. "My hand on the outside of your clothes?"

"For now," she admitted.

"I'd like to touch your breasts," he admitted. "May I?"

"Yes."

"I won't go any farther," he promised before he kissed her forehead. "Just relax."

* * *

Simmons trembled in nervous anticipation when John brushed his lips against hers. That's fine, he thought as he's nervous, too. It's been twenty years since Sarajevo, when he got fragged and duct taped himself together. SHIELD wouldn't send help, thought it would compromise the entire mission, so he had ducted taped himself back together again and staggered toward the pickup zone. (Had thought about hand delivering a thank you note to the grave of Vesta Stoudt for her far seeing clairvoyance but realized that it probably violated multiple SHIELD Ordnances, so on the few times Jonathan Garrett said his prayers, he always added a thank you for Vesta. Hopefully, he'd meet her in a bit and he could properly thank her). Would have died in a ditch if it wasn't for a coy and scrappy Felix Blake whose Spidey Sense had tingled and had begun searching for him (Against orders). It had been the start of a beautiful friendship, but really, the end of his rather active sex life.

He kept everything simple, focused on just kissing Simmons. (No tongue, just open mouth kissing as he wanted her to set the pace) She continued to clutch at his hand as though it was a lifeline but as she grew more comfortable, more confident, her death grasp loosened. She made little murmurs when he kissed her neck, which he found fascinating and incredibly endearing.

Then she grew bolder, or perhaps frustrated with his slow pace, and tongue kissed him. And not happy with that, she took his free hand and placed it on her breast.

* * *

It was really rather old fashioned and sweet, that her harem believed her to be a delicate flower of womanhood. That she needed to be protected from running in where angels feared to tread (Felix's obsessive need for verbal confirmation on anything dating related). However John's open mouth kisses while incredibly sweet, made her really tingly in certain places, and made her want more.

Therefore it behooved her inherent Bad Girl to take John Garrett's hand and place it on her right breast. Being a very smart man (and a Breast Man, as she had correctly pegged him as such) he happily explored his new location.

With his mouth. Not his hands. Well, she was unable to correctly correlate the physical data at hand as John was busy nuzzling one breast while his free hand played with the other. It was wonderful, and tingle causing, but she managed to pull her thoughts together to wonder how much better it could be if John's mouth was against her bare skin.

"Wait," she protested which caused him to pull back. She sat up, and pulled off her t-shirt. That done, she tried to be brave and blasé but instinctively she placed one arm over her bare breasts.

Garrett reached over her and handed her back her shirt. "Put it back on," he suggested. "We agreed, clothes on. Nothing south of the border."

"I liked how you kissed me there," she softly admitted. "I thought it could be even better if I wasn't wearing my t-shirt."

He smiled a deliciously wicked smile, and whispered in her ear, "I want to try something. It could be rather pleasurable for you. Do you know some woman can climax if someone ardently worships their breasts?"

"Do I have a fervent worshipper?" she asked even as he took her hand in his. She nervously unshielded her breasts and Garrett whistled in admiration. His enthusiasm made her blush and he gave her a proper kiss.

"Passionate, and enthusiastic also," he assured her after he kissed the valley between her breasts. "I am one of my Mistress' three most loyal minions."

"I've never been adored before," she admitted with a giggle. "I quite like it."

"Be prepared to be worshipped." He assured her.

"Minions, though? Minions?" she protested.

"Loyal henchmen? Underlings?" He teased.

"Shut up and worship me," was her final command.

* * *

She fell asleep in John's arms after an absolutely splendid time of being worshipped and adored. Her loyal devotee was completely exhausted so he was deeply asleep when Felix and Phil stopped by to check on John. They walked in and saw a topless Jemma was resting on top of John and he had one arm wrapped protectively around her.

The two men left them alone and they walked to Felix's bedroom. Felix held out his hand in quiet expectation and an exasperated Phil pulled out his wallet.

"Any preference on how you'd like your money?" Phil asked.

"Green and spendable," Felix admitted.


	36. Reveille and Taps

The victorious Felix took his winnings from Phil and carelessly threw it by his wallet. He leaned his cane just so next to the bed so it was available in case of a need for escape, and then he placed his right leg over his left knee. He efficiently removed his shoe and then repeated the maneuver with his left leg. That done, he crawled into bed and began his hip exercises, concentrating on his abductors. Anything to keep his mind off what he had just witnessed.

Garrett and Simmons in the same bed, sleeping the deep sleep of the sated.

It failed, **_naturally_**.

Maybe because he kept hearing Nikki's laughter in his head, _Like you ever had a chance, loser._

Phil climbed in next to him and faced him.

"You ok?" was all he asked.

"Fucking Garrett," a green eyed Felix tersely admitted. "Garrett. I mean, I had my concession speech planned for when you won the fair maiden's hand, but fucking Garrett? It shouldn't be a surprise, as she's always felt comfortable talking to him. I need to change my speech enumerating your stellar qualities to 'I think John has had all his shots and he's housebroken'."

Phil cracked a smile.

"I don't think we need to buy a wedding gift just yet. She wanted to experiment and she went to you first. You needed to be sure that she really wanted it, and she couldn't voice it. You had told me that, so when she flirted with me, I just ignored it. Then she tried it on John, and he yelled, 'Stop your grinnin' and drop your linen'."

"She should thank us for breaking him of the habit of him yelling, 'Drop your cocks and put on your socks' at the most importune times," Felix drolly commented. "During meetings, missions… the cafeteria…"

"Fucking Garrett, though," Phil dryly protested. "Hate 'em."

It wasn't real hate, it was just an exasperated fondness of what a lucky SOB Garrett was.

"Agreed. Hate him." Felix then exhaled slowly. "We really have to resolve his power issue especially if he and Jemma..."

"Yes," Phil softly admitted.

"By the way, there's an exhibition tomorrow night at a college campus about thirty minutes from here. It's about the Howling Commandos, I managed to finagle six tickets to the pre-opening cocktail party. I didn't know Trip was coming, but that's ok. I'll stay back. Between John gloating and you fanboying over Cap, I'd probably need a bucket in which to vomit."

Felix waved his hand to stop Phil's protest. "Besides I really need some quiet time. It's too much noise with them all here. Plus my assistant is making me nervous, she keeps staring at me. It must be the surgical scars, but it's too hot to wear long pants."

Phil who had his own suspicions on why Skye stared, decided not to share. It was highly unlikely that Blake would believe him.

"What's the game plan for today?" Phil asked.

"You and I kill John if he hurt Jemma in any way. I need to run into town for a few supplies. But seriously, I need to call the caterers, they threw a naked party surcharge on the invoice and then asked if their staff needed to be clothed."

"Serves you right for renting the Playboy Beach House for a week," Phil teased.

"Actually, two weeks. I rented it for next week, just in case SHIELD needed to sanitize it," Felix admitted. "Or if John was too ill to move."

Phil said nothing, but nodded in head in acknowledgement of what they weren't saying. That John Garrett had noticeably weakened in the last month and that they were running out of time.

"You know, we really should prank John somehow. They brought your electric guitar? Amp?" Phil asked.

"Yes," Felix answered. "What are you thinking in that Level 8 mind of yours?"

The two men exchanged meaningful glances and they both cackled. Loudly. Like a bunch of tweens face to face with their personal idol, Justin Bieber.

"'Star Spangled Banner' at daybreak," they both exclaimed. "Set the amps to face his windows."

"No… no… we have to do it right. 'Reveille' first and then 'The Star Spangled Banner'," Felix decided. "And by the time he gets out of bed to kill me, I'll probably be able to do a few bars of 'Morning has Broken'."

"I'll have to make waffles to apologize, won't I?" Phil asked.

"Yup," Felix agreed.

"What about you?" Phil questioned.

"I paid for the rental. I don't have to apologize for anything. I could run around naked all day long if I wanted," Felix announced before he shuddered.

* * *

It was an almost eerie calm as the sun rose that morning. It was the type of calm that usually forecasted a major hurricane or an upcoming cataclysm. The sleeping victims were all snug in their beds, unaware of what mayhem was about to befall upon them. Trip and Fitz had fallen asleep while spooning, Jemma Simmons was still protectively cradled by Jonathan Garrett and MarySue Pootz was alone in her room as Jemma had told her not to anticipate her return. Mary Sue dreamed naughty dreams of having someone of her own to cuddle, as really everyone had shacked up at the beach house except for her and it had been a really long time since Miles. (So long in fact, that Felix Blake was looking mighty fine, especially his Docker clad butt. And she could have her own personal fantasy about her boss, except in it, he never opened his mouth before him yelling for coffee would just kill the mood.)

Felix and Phil carefully set up the amps while they struggled not to giggle too loud. They repeatedly shushed each other while Winston watched. The canine wore his Mutt Muffs to protect his ears, as Felix planned on being earth-rattling. Fortunately they were the only house for miles as the Von Obscenely Rich Folk who owned this place normally desired a great deal of privacy for their naked beach bingos.

That done, Felix did a quick arpeggio or three, just to rewarm up his fingers. With a head nod, he signified he was ready and Phil turned on the amp.

BAM – The power chord loud enough to wake the dead rattled the windows of the house as he began "Reveille".

_I can't get 'em up, I can't get 'em up, I can't get 'em up this morning;  
_ _I can't get 'em up, I can't get 'em up, I can't get 'em up at all!  
_ _The corporal's worse than the privates, The sergeant's worse than the corporals,  
_ _Lieutenant's worse than the sergeants, And the captain's worst of all!_

Being a former Army Ranger, Phil immediately snapped to attention and saluted. The mission to prank John was successful as there was a loud roar from Garrett's bedroom which sounded like, "I'm gonna kill you both, you #!%!#%!#%!" Their goal accomplished, Felix continued his concert for his captive audience with "The Star Spangled Banner" before "Morning has Broken".

"Turn it up to eleven," he instructed Phil who was in charge of the amps, and who, like Felix, knew _This is Spinal Tap_ by heart.

That done, he began rattling the windows with the opening chords of "Smoke on the Water".

* * *

Jemma Simmons was having the weirdest dream. That she was in the front row of her own private rock show as performed by one Felix X. Blake with Roadie Phil Coulson. She woke shortly after John Garrett's feet hit the floor **_hard_** and he began to bellow obscenities out the window which included a strongdesire to murder his two best friends.

That threat delivered to his victims, John Garrett laughed. He returned back to bed, and he kissed Jemma before he snuggled next to her. "That was good, boys. Really good, especially since I manufactured this by making them bring your guitar, Blake. Simmons, enjoying your morning rock concert?"

"Why are they doing this?" She asked.

"Because they know about this, and they're being assholes," Garrett admitted even as Simmons groaned. "No, _no_ , **_no_**. It's all directed at me, not you. They're a teeny bit jealous so they've decided to prank."

"How did they find out?" Jemma asked.

"They do perimeter checks and they have a system so they know how many people are in the house and where. So they'd be together, Fitz and Trip would be in their room, single person in your room and two in mine. They'd realize that it was us, because Blue Skies is busy scoping out Felix's ass."

That tidbit caused Jemma to sit up in bed. "She is not," Jemma fiercely protested. "He's **_mine_**. I'm not sharing him with anyone… well, with the exception of you two."

"Simmons," Garrett sighed, even as he placed his hand on her smooth skin. "Forget I mentioned it as it would horrify Blake and embarrass Blue Skies even though I can assure you that Blake's butt is better bare. Can I convince you to be naughty again? While we have a musical serenade?"

Jemma made a happy sound of absolute contentment when his hand moved north. She slipped back into bed and gave him a long kiss. "Last night was amazing," she confessed while a delighted Garrett beamed. "Wow. It was…. **_Wow_**. You're amazing."

"I have to give credit where credit is due. _Cosmo_ , I read it every time I'm in my doctor's waiting room," he confessed before he gave her a very long kiss. "And for the record, Phil goes crazy when you play with his nipples. I know he claims that he's got tactile anesthesia but I believe his condition is psychosomatic. Are you purring?"

A blissful, purring Simmons nodded her head and then she asked, "Felix's kink?"

"Touch. If he lets you in behind his walls. I mean, Skye could touch him but it wouldn't do a damn thing for him. Now, if you example you saw him later today and you hugged him, perhaps slid your hand beneath his shirt so you were touching bare skin? He'd be overwhelmed."

His comment caused her to cease purring and instead glare at him. "I don't want to overwhelm Felix. I think I've done that repeatedly."

"You have," Garrett admitted before he winced in pain. "No pinching. I'm warning you, if you pinch me, I pinch back. I think that you preferred a much softer touch."

"Evil man," she exclaimed as he proceeded to do just that. "But you're **_my_** evil man. Remember that."

* * *

Phil and Felix sat in the kitchen, and enjoyed waffles in blessed silence when the first of their bleary eyed victims staggered down for breakfast. John Garrett was first and he poked both of them. Hard. In a threatening tone, he clearly enunciated, "The fiery hatred of a hundred, thousand suns, do you hear me?"

Phil pretended innocence and sweetly asked, "Did you have difficulty sleeping last night? Is that why you're so irritable?"

John Garrett collapsed into a chair and stabbed three stacks of waffles for his own. "Is that what caused that impromptu concert? Seriously, guys, you had your chance. I was the third batter in the rotation," he began. "Better make more waffles, Phil. Trip's getting dressed and that boy can eat."

"Please accept the thanks of a grateful nation for your services. So, yes, we'd like to thank you for taking one for the home team," Felix snipped.

"With all due respect to the lady in question, I really shouldn't mention what happened. However, I'll admit that we only got to second base. You know lately I have difficulties getting to home plate unless one of you boys pitch hit." John easily admitted.

"Can we stop it with the baseball references? We are adults," protested Felix Blake. With a sideways glance at Garrett, he added, "Some of us at least."

"Jealously doesn't suit you, Blake. Seriously, you had your chance, but when she offered, as I knew she did, because you wouldn't sure as hell ask. You needed to her to state her explicit desires, sign a form in triplicate, get witnesses and a note from her doctor stating she was of sound mind and body," Garrett retorted.

He was a little irritable as he didn't get any sleep, but he winced once the words came out of his mouth because he knew Felix would implode because he's view it as a betrayal.

Felix Blake stood up and faced the taller, heavier John Garrett. "Don't you make fun of my condition," he spat. "Don't you fucking ever."

"I'm not making fun of your condition, Felix. I'm just saying that you have deep fears about trusting people and having them abandon you when you need them most so you need a great deal of reassurance," Garrett interjected. "So you don't trust anybody unless they crawl through your personal obstacle course. I'm sorry about your mother, about Nikki. But Simmons isn't one to run away at the first sign of trouble. You know what, if you had just said yes, instead of needing an obscene amount of confirmation, you would have been the lucky one."

"Don't you **_ever_** mention my mother," Felix stated in a very low tone. Phil realizing that situation was spiraling out of control, recklessly stepped between the two men to provider a physical barrier.

"Ok, everyone. Deep breath. Break apart," Phil commanded.

"Don't worry, I'm taking my bike out for a ride," Felix snapped before he stormed out of the room.

"He's really pissed at me," Garrett stated after he heard Felix's bike roar away.

"Because of Simmons? No, not at all," Phil insisted.

"No, because I'm dying and abandoning him. Mentally, he accepts it, but emotionally, he's retreated back to the six year old whose Mum left because Daddy beat her once too often." Garrett sighed, a long drawn out sigh. "I'm running out of time, Phil. I worry he'll do something stupid after I'm dead. Well thought out, meticulously planned but utterly fucking stupid. Possibly even worse than getting absolutely trashed and having Elvis marry him and Nikki in Vegas. Tell me I'm wrong, please."

"I can't," Phil admitted. The death of his father had been his defining moment in his life (until he had met an alien with daddy issues) and… God knows how that had fucked him up.

"I'm sorry that I'm leaving you with this mess to clean up," Garrett apologized.

"Eat your waffles, they're getting cold," ordered Phil. "After I went into the wild and hunted them down for you. Skinned them myself, so eat them."

John Garrett, being a growing boy, was on his second servings of waffles when Jemma Simmons came down. She awkwardly smiled at John, he easily gave her a kiss and then she turned to Phil. He gave her a proper kiss and smiled, so she relaxed.

"Is Felix sleeping in after his early morning concert?" she asked.

"He's…" John began before Phil interrupted with a, "He had to run a few errands. He'll be back."

* * *

Felix Blake pulled into the Army Navy store and immediately regretted the fact that he had left his cane at the house. It wasn't one of his smarter moves, he realized, but during his loud discussion with John Garrett, John's lips had been blue and his color ashen. It was a startling reminder that John was running out of time, and Felix needed to find an acceptable high voltage power source, in the middle of nowhere. While the thought of asking Phil to get his Asgardian Thunder Buddy Thor involved had been tempting, he had quickly realized that most of Phil's Avenger Delinquents were walking natural disasters (especially Barton) which meant the strong possibility of collateral damage (e.g. building collapsing).

He limped to the counter and smiled at the cashier. He then took out his wallet and displayed his badge, which caused immediate fear in her eyes. Or it might have been his attempt at a friendly smile. Either usually got the same result.

"No, no, no. I'm not here to do an inspection. I want to buy my girlfriend a TASER, as I worry about her safety. Please don't show me the hot pink ones, I want military grade," he explained. "And if you have the one with the handle, so it's two Tasers in one, I'd be happier. I'll pay cash. No paper trail, no credit cards to trace. I worry about her after what happened in New York."

She took him to the back room and displayed what was probably the most illegal amount of weaponry he had ever seen outside of a Texas militia. His eyes focused on exactly what he needed, the double TASER unit in one, an absolutely glorious beast that produced at least ten million volts.

"I want two," he informed her even as he peeled out several hundred dollar bills. "Mom needs one too, and she'll be able to grasp the handle nicely. Arthritis is such a curse."

She wrapped them and then Felix slipped her the fifty had he had won from Coulson. "Lose the paperwork please? I may work for the government, but family first especially in these troubled times. If the government falls, citizens need to be able to protect themselves."

Being a Doom's Day Cultist (he had recognized the sticker in the window which meant that the shop was owned by the fringiest of fringe groups) she quickly shredded the paperwork. That done, he located a hardware shop as he had to acquire a soldering iron and a few other tools.

His mission accomplished, he returned back to the beach house, where he spent several hours in the garage creating a John Garrett power starter upper. While he lacked the sheer mastery his father had in electronics (when he was sober), he had sufficient knowledge (he hoped) to safely reverse engineer the TASERS so they'd provided a continuous high voltage, high flow of electrical current until the battery discharged.

If this worked, he'd be able to put almost 20 million volts (SAFELY) into John Garrett's cybernetic system and Fitz's bots would wake up and do their bot magic.

If Fitz couldn't come up with a better solution, well, at least they could try this.

He owed Garrett that much, and he hoped for the best for him and Jemma.

* * *

A despondent Winston abruptly perked up and ran towards the garage at full gallop. The large dog nearly trampled over Fitz in his eagerness to reunite with his pet, which caused the Scot to loudly protest.

"Daddy's home," Garrett catcalled. He had plopped himself into an Adirondack chair earlier in the morning and hadn't moved since, which required Phil to bring him assorted beverages for fear of John's imminent dehydration.

"I'm surprised he didn't take Winston," Jemma stated to Phil. She tried to keep the worry from her voice but Phil still heard it.

"He had to run a quick errand and suiting up Winston takes time. Plus Winston was busy splashing in the ocean and he's entitled to some down time. It's not because of you and John, in any way, shape or form." Phil's reassuring smile did not calm her, not one bit.

"I thought I heard Felix and John arguing earlier today? Something about his mother?" Jemma slowly admitted.

"Felix's mother is a very touchy subject," Phil confessed. "He never mentions her at all. John's bringing her into the conversation, was not the smartest idea he's ever had."

"He never talks about her. In fact, none of you talk about your parents," Jemma prompted.

"Brief summary. John, born and raised in Waco, Texas. Go ahead, laugh, as it's wildly appropriate. His father was a Southern Baptist Minister, so he and John butted heads all the time. John was closer to his mother and she was the only one to show up when he graduated the Academy. My father died in 'Nam when I was ten. He loved red corvettes and Captain America. Notice a pattern? It was then just my mom and me and… it's was tough. We were very close until she died. Felix…. His father had a drinking problem, mom ran out when he was six. That's all he'll tell me, and it's taken a lot of time to get that much," Phil explained.

"Pretty much you're each other's family?" Jemma asked, her brown eyes welling up with tears.

"Yes. John's the big brother, I'm the youngest, and Felix is Jan Brady," Phil smiled but he quickly realized that Jemma didn't understand that cultural reference. "Jan was the middle daughter, overshadowed by her siblings."

"Are you telling me that Felix needs help with his self-esteem?" Jemma asked.

"No, just telling you that he's just Felix," Phil admitted with a dry laugh. "Since I've answered all your questions, I wish to make a statement. A firm statement of sheer determined resolution just so you understand where I stand on a very important issue."

He was dimpled and smiling at her, plus the very amused look in his eyes which made her realized that he was up to NO GOOD.

"You're blushing," he prompted, which just made it worse. "Perhaps I won't make my declaration after all. I see you shiver with antici... pation. Maybe I'd like to keep you in that particular state for a while."

"Phil!" Jemma protested.

"Very well, the next time you want me to be naughty, I'll say **_hell_** **_yes_** ," Phil informed her in a very seductive tone. Then his tone brightened, "Oh look, the caterer is here, better go talk to them. Can you find Felix?"

And the bastard left her! So she stood there while she blushed and was utterly flummoxed.

* * *

Jemma searched the house for the missing Felix and returned back to the beach to find a very perturbed Felix loudly discussing the arrangements with the caterers. John Garrett's roaring laughter was heard, and several nubile souls hid behind aprons and not much else.

"Clothing is not optional here," he explained to the lead caterer. "Clothing is a requirement here as I have explained no less than six times to your manager. If your staff doesn't get clothed within the next five minutes, I'm docking ten percentage off your invoice."

He pivoted on his cane and turned to face Skye. "Mary Sue, will stop staring at my surgical scars? You're making me very self-conscious and nervous."

Skye freaked and protested, "I'm not starting at them, I'm staring at your…" She put her hands over her mouth and refused to say another word.

"Staring at my what?" He asked.

"She's staring at your rear, Blake," John Garrett loudly inserted. "Congratulations, you're being sexually oogled."

The heavily graying Felix Blake took one look at John, another long look at an embarrassed Skye and then he looked heavenwards. It seemed that he disbelieved that Skye was, in fact, had oogled his butt and that he was the victim of a gigantic cosmic joke courtesy of John Garrett. "I do anything like this again, just fucking shoot me. Point blank, between the eyes, Phil. Promise?"

"Promise," Phil assured him.

"Thank you! Are they dressed yet?" Felix asked.

"Seriously, you're a true friend, Blake. You got me strippers for my end of life party!" Garrett happily bubbled which earned him the stink eye from Felix and Winston.

* * *

Jemma Simmons found Felix Blake sitting in the kitchen. He startled when he realized it was she who was in the room and he struggled to stand.

"Don't go," she mock protested. "Else I'll get the feeling that you're trying to avoid me. I'm also worried as you're limping. You should have taken the Escalade not your bike today."

"I'm trying to stay off the sand as it's really not safe for me to walk there, but Winston likes jogging on the beach. I overdid it," he explained. "Plus the caterers decided to show up ala fresco because this is apparently Hugh Hefner's hangout spot. I even put in the contract that they would be fully clothed."

Jemma giggled loudly while she attacked. She placed her hand on Felix's and gently stroked.

"Easy for you to laugh, some of those body should remain covered," was his retort.

"Are you alright? I heard you and John arguing today. I wasn't sure what you were arguing about," she asked.

"John's an asshole," Felix admitted. "I'm one, too, so we butt butts occasionally. And not just when we frickle frackle."

"When you have sex," Jemma stated. "You're right, you know. When I want something, I should be comfortable enough to express my desires."

"Well," he started, adding the Felix Blake head tilt of which she had grown so inordinately fond, "It doesn't appear I'm that man. Now, I have to go check on the caterers, John might decide to slather himself in butt-ah and make himself the centerpiece for his party."

"Butt-ah?" She asked even as he removed his hand from hers.

"Butter, butt-ah," he explained. He stood up with a noticeable wince and then softly spoke, "I really wanted what you couldn't offer last night. I did."

"I did offer last night," she protested.

"Not in a way that I could accept it. I've told you I need guidelines, boundaries and instructions because it's the only way I can handle my social anxiety. Yes that means I need your signed permission on a triplicate form with a note from your mother saying that you're of sound mind. It's the way it works in Blakeville, I'm afraid."

His crooked smile didn't match the look in his eyes.

"It sounds like a horribly lonely way to live," she protested.

"It is, but it provides me with the security I need."

"There's no possibility that kissing you into utter submission would be sufficient?" she asked.

He left without answering.

* * *

The Three Stooges sat next to each other and they held a serious conversation during the twilight Lobster Bake. Felix had grown so annoyed by the Bare Naked Caterers that they had been dismissed with the understanding that they were to show up the next morning to breakdown the setup.

"Seriously, you have a cute butt, that's why she's staring," Phil informed Felix Blake.

"I hate you," Felix announced as it seems the only appropriate thing to say. He had realized early on in their relationship that particular response was the only adequate answer to most of his cohort's caustic comments.

"Come on, Felix, you don't hate Phil," Garrett announced in a passable imitation of Spongebob Squarepants as he waved his lobster at Felix. "We all know you don't."

"Stop playing with your food," Felix snapped.

"Seriously, it seems that Fitz and Trip are seeing each other. Now, with whom do we set up Skye?" Garrett asked. "While she seems quite take with Blake's buttocks, Jemma will not share him with her."

Felix snorted an embarrassed laugh, even while Phil grinned.

"No Ward," protested Felix. "He's been visiting her at my office whenever he's in HQ. I finally told him to get away. Even Sitwell would be better."

"I thought you didn't like Sitwell?" Garrett asked. "They're the bane of your existence."

Felix stole Garrett's butter to dunk his lobster in before he responded, "Ward is. Sitwell seems to be Ward's Minder, as though the Big Guy with the One Eye doesn't trust him. Ward starts his shit, Sitwell doesn't add to it normally, except when I'm really flakey. He also distracts Ward when his bullying reaches a certain point."

Garrett exhaled slowly and leaned towards Felix and Phil. "Thanks, boys. This is a really excellent send off. After dessert, I'll toddle off to bed. ALONE, unless you two care to join me for a cuddle."

"You didn't tell him, did you?" Phil asked Felix.

"I thought I'd spring it on him later," Felix admitted. "Since Phil ruined the surprise, we'll tell you. You have to give a speech."

"What?" Garrett protested.

"We serve dessert, we hand out marshmallows with big pointy sticks. You then stand up and make a speech," Felix announced. "Being a Preacher Kid, we will be timing you, as you are long-winded due to genetics and we don't want a sermon."

"Hate you. Hate you both," protested John to which Felix took two crab legs and poked him, all the while exclaiming in a high falsetto, "Come on, John. We know you don't."

* * *

Skye and Jemma had claimed the chaise lounge as their own and they were busy devouring lobster, crabs legs and other seafood dunked in a plethora of butter.

"This was fun, I'm glad I stowed along," Skye told Jemma. "Though now my SO knows that I think he has a cute butt."

"He thinks Garrett is teasing him, as he refuses to accept that he has a simply scrumptious butt," Jemma admitted. "I'm glad you came also. It's been fun."

"Yes, you and Garrett can't stop grinning at each other, so last night must have been a hell of a lot of fun," Skye slyly teased.

"Stop it," Simmons protested.

"Blushing also!"

"Ok, everyone," John Garrett announced as he tapped on the table top. "May I have your attention? I understand that I have to give a speech now, so I'll talk for a bit and you will all be my captive audience."

"My God, we've unleashed a monster!" Phil Coulson catcalled which caused everyone to laugh.

Garrett then stepped on top of the large wooden table. He smiled his usual shit eating grin and extended his arms to encompass the entire world.

"My friends, my countrymen, the incredibly sexy Simmons, I come here to say one thing," he began in a very sonorous tone. He jerked for a moment and he lost his smile. "I've come here to say….." He paused, grabbed his chest, even as Felix and Phil stood up and reached for him. In a softer voice, barely able to be heard over the waves, John Garrett's last words were, "Game over. Game over, man."

Then he fell off the table and landed on his side.

* * *

Chaos, but tightly controlled, though Skye bit back a startled yelp at the loud impact of John Garrett against the tiled floor.

"I've brought the med kit," Trip announced even as Felix and Phil began snapping orders.

"Initiating emergency reboot. Code Alpha Theta eleven niner Delta," Felix intoned even while John Garrett's body jerked as the system struggled and failed to reboot.

"Skye, call HQ, tell them we need a chopper here. We can't take him to regular hospital," crisply ordered Phil as he tore Garrett's shirt to reveal the cybernetics that were dark and non-operational.

"No pulse," Felix announced. "Starting CPR at twenty twenty two hours. We'll need to get his airway managed, else he may vomit the three lobsters he had this evening. Where's Trip?"

"Here I am," Trip announced. He threw the kit next to John's face and he fell onto his knees. "I'll intubate him. Can we try another reboot?"

"Battery's dead," Fitz announced. "The bots aren't starting."

"Come on you ugly fucker," Phil protested. "Don't die on me yet."

"They'll be here in ten," Skye announced.

"Intubating," Trip stated. "Stand clear."

"I'll check for breath sounds once you're in," Jemma announced.

"Checking. No pulse at twenty twenty four," Felix announced.

"Did you get the charger working, Fitz?"

"It's working, I'm not sure if it's enough."

The next few minutes blurred in Jemma's mind as people spoke quickly and rapidly. There were crisp instructions from Phil and obscene curses from Felix directed towards their patient.

"We'll try it after he's intubated and a few minutes of CPR."

"Tube is in, equal and clear breath sounds."

"Taping it in position. Hyperventiliating."

"Initiating emergency reboot. Code Alpha Theta eleven niner Delta."

"System is completely down."

"Restarting CPR at twenty twenty five."

"Let me try to jump start the battery, everyone clear."

"Come on, come on."

"Battery is not accepting the charge."

"Question. What if we just bypass the battery? Hit John with enough electricity to wake up your sleepy bots automatically? Once the current starts flowing the bots will be able to fix the battery right?" Felix asked. "We'll just have to support him with ventilations and compressions until the system comes back up."

"We're talking about a sustained voltage of over 20 million volts with …" Fitz began rambling in heavily accented English, while Felix asked questions about currency, resistance and flow rate.

"Guess what? I've got just that in the black bag by where I was sitting. I'm suggesting everyone move back because I'm not sure how this will work. Let's roll John on his side. Skye, get the black bag for me," Felix ordered.

"Yes, sir!"

She ran as fast as she could, grabbed the bag and returned back to the scene. John had been rolled on his side, and Felix was instructing everyone to get at least ten feet away.

"I'm not sure if this is safe," Fitz protested. "You took two TASERS and rewired them. That is not safe!"

"Felix, you're not an electrician, listen to Fitz," Phil argued.

"I did all my old man's wiring jobs when he was too drunk to see straight." Felix stated. He pulled out the two modified TASERS and looked at Phil. "Been fun, Coulson. Now Trip, get Simmons out of here."

"Same here," Phil admitted. "Never knew you wanted to be THOR, though? Are you sure this won't backdraft on you?"

"I have a death wish which is why I need to do this, not Fitz. But seriously, it might work, which is better than the current option of John dying. But I'll do it, as I don't want anyone to get hurt if I didn't ground the wires properly. Skye?" Felix then stated as he carefully placed the two TASERS against John's chest in such a way as to run the current through the battery.

"Yes?" Skye answered.

"Thank you for finally learning how to make coffee. Now get out of here and stay away from Ward, he's nothing but trouble."

"Felix," Jemma softly protested.

He just looked at her and gave her a quick wink before he fired the TASERS. She was still watching him, when the current arched and electrocuted Felix Blake. He fell, lifeless, on top of Garrett even while Skye screamed a bloodcurdling scream.

"This is Agent Coulson. I have two agents down with no pulses. CPR has been initiated on Felix Blake at twenty twenty eight. CPR resumed on John Garrett at twenty twenty six."

_Fading light dims the sight  
And a star gems the sky, gleaming bright_   
_From afar drawing nigh,_   
_Falls the night._

_Day is done, gone the sun_   
_From the lakes, from the hills, from the skies_   
_All is well, safely rest;_   
_God is nigh._

_Then goodnight, peaceful night;_   
_Till the light of the dawn shineth bright._   
_God is near, do not fear,_

_Friend, goodnight._


	37. A Brief Intermission

For 1_The_Purple_Donkey_1

The SHIELD Osprey landed in the circular driveway of the house. Two med teams raced out, quickly triaged and then took over patient care. Phil Coulson turned away from the scene as he refused to view his two best friends being coded. He heard everything though, the medical jargon, 'He's taching along in V-Tach!' and he struggled to maintain his composure.

"Where are based you out of?" Phil asked the pilot, a small sprite of a woman that barely came up to his shoulders. It was instinctive, how much he trusted her because she reminded him of Melinda May.

"Small base about twenty miles away. We've got a trauma unit plus a small cybernetics team so you couldn't have picked a better right spot for this to happen. We'll take good care of them, sir," she assured Phil.

_Felix Blake, you fucking bastard, you planned for his,_ Phil realized. _You probably spent days correlating every SHIELD base that had what you thought we might need within a half hour of the beach._

"You better, as I'm tagging along for the ride," Phil insisted.

The pilot nodded her head.

"You'll have to sit up front with me," the pilot explained. Phil nodded while Trip walked over to him.

"I know where the base is, so I'll drive over after we clean up here," Trip promised. "I'll bring Winston?"

Phil nodded even as the Giant Schnauzer followed his pet to the Osprey. When the med team loaded Felix, the service dog attempted to get on the helicopter, and was shooed away by the team. He attempted again to sneak back onto the chopper and again was turned away. The third time he got smarter and tried to smoosh himself into appearing much smaller than he really was, perhaps fooling the unsuspecting souls who might confuse him with a small mammal, such as a squirrel, or an oddly colored chipmunk as opposed to a rather large salt and pepper Giant Schnauzer.

"Is that Blake's service dog? I saw the two of them at HQ one day." The pilot then asked, "If he can quietly sit in your lap, bring him. I've got a headset that might fit him, so we can protect his ears."

"I think I can sit in his lap instead?" Phil offered. He struggled to smile, realized that he wasn't sure if he'd be able to maintain his composure and instead whistled for Winston. It took some finagling (as Winston was a very big chipmunk after all) but soon they were secure. Phil clung to the dog for emotional support, as that was Winston's job.

John Garrett was loaded next and Phil still refused to look, because he didn't to remember them like that, being worked on.

"We're loaded," the pilot informed him. "When they give me the all clear, we'll lift off. We've got two teams ready for them."

* * *

The sky was incredibly blue, and it almost matched the blue perfection of the ocean. The waves crashed on the shore, and John Garrett exhaled loudly. It was a perfect day to do just about anything, including take a nap. He was exhausted, and so he closed his eyes.

Until some rude soul dripped water on him.

"Seriously? What are you doing here?" stated an all too familiar voice. Really, there was only one man that could put that much irritation into a simple question.

John opened his eyes and stared at Felix Blake. "Blakey, what the fuck are you doing here?"

Felix Blake tilted his head and just looked at Garrett in that exasperating, 'Are you really that stupid, Garrett?' manner.

"No," John Garrett protested. He quickly stood up and knocked over a drink with an umbrella he didn't remember ordering.

"If I'm stuck with John for all eternity, I am demanding A REFUND," Felix Blake loudly announced to the celestial concierge, who decided not to answer him.

"I think my father would be rather disappointed, as this isn't his idea of heaven," admitted John.

"What makes you think this is heaven?" Blake asked. "It looks more like…."

The two men looked at each in true horror and an overwhelming sense of terror.

"TAHITI," they both stated. "IT'S A MAGICAL PLACE."


	38. T.A.H.I.T.I. and Eyeore

"What did you must say?" the two men asked each other. Felix Blake's hair was almost snow white in the glow of the tropical sun, and John Garrett's eyes were almost as blue as the paradisiac water.

"TAHITI – it's a magical place," they chimed together.

"No, no, **_no_**. They did not put that Jesus Juice into us," Blake insisted. "We're not supposed to know to about the Jesus Juice. Oh, I'm sorry The Avenger Healing Intergalactic Transfusion Initiative, which is not, a fucking magical place nor are we Avengers. We're more of the over the hill gang who does clean up after they destroy most of New York City."

"First of all, what the hell are you doing in my Tahiti…." John then mumbled, "It's a magical place."

"Good God, Pavlov's ringing his bell," Blake snapped. He snapped his wrist as though he was ringing a bell. "Tahiti - it's a magical place."

"Stop it, stop it. Don't mention that place ever, every again. However FIRST things FIRST. Why would you get Jesus Juice? Why the hell are you in my Private Paradise?" John Garrett asked. "I remember my battery giving out and then… Blake… did you electrocute yourself?"

"I didn't plan on you being a goddamn diva and dying in the middle of the lobster bake. For the record, Garrett, you face planted right in the middle of the strawberry shortcake."

Actually, the strawberry shortcake had remained unscathed, as John had missed it. Felix knew it, also, but figured since they were both dead, why change the level of snark to which they were accustomed?

John Garrett pouted, a big sad pout. "I love strawberry shortcake."

"Loved, John, LOVED. I know, that's why we had it. All things considered, it was actually a rather stellar idea to dismiss the Butt Naked Caterers." Blake stopped and swallowed. "I didn't have enough time to make anything more than a prototype. I didn't ground the wire properly because Art's Hardware Shack and Cupcake Factory didn't have much in the way of supplies."

"Why? Why did you use if it wasn't grounded?" Garrett protested.

"Because your bots needed to be jump started."

"Bots?" Garrett repeated.

"Fitz created these little nanobots that were supposed to rebuild you but your system had degraded to the point where they needed to be jumpstarted. We've been injecting you all week with them. So I tried to jumpstart you because I fucking owe you," Felix informed him.

"You shouldn't have…."

"Don't tell me what I should and shouldn't do, Garrett. I am not as **_fragile_** as you and Coulson believe I am. I don't need to be continually coddled and protected or fucking suffocated," protested Felix. "If I decided that the risk of my death was worth trying to save your sorry ass, you just need to fucking accept it."

John Garrett stared at Felix Blake and then shook his head. "You have a potty mouth, Felix Blake. The nuns must have loved you."

"The sisters made a man out of me," Felix stated while John Garrett jumped up and down in disbelief.

"You ARE so going to hell, Felix! You deflowered a NUN?" John repeated. "NUNS?"

"Who said that I deflowered them?" he asked. "Seriously, though. Is this it? The afterlife? I feel like we're in a holding pattern. Shouldn't there be a door? Or something? Maybe someone who wants to tell us what we're doing here? I don't see Mr. Conductor from the Shining Time Station standing around, waiting to deliver his pithy advice."

John agreed and then he started walking. Then he stopped.

"That's odd. You mentioned a door, Felix, and it appeared." John then walked towards something.

Felix Blake did not see a wooden door, a door made of sand, or even a fluffy door made out of clouds, but he still followed John Garrett, as really what else was there to do? The water looked inviting, but there didn't seem to be any life (Death?) guards on duty.

"Ok, door. We're here, what do we do? Do we open…." John Garrett swallowed and stepped back, nearly trampling Felix Blake. "That's weird."

"You're blocking my view, Big Guy," Felix lied.

"It just opened when I asked if we were supposed to open it. Shit, they're working on me… and you. Damn, I look pretty bad. Phil's not doing good but he's got Winston taking care of him. Don't push me, damn it," John growled.

"I didn't," Felix insisted.

"Then, I'm getting pulled through the door and back to my body," John stated. "Come on, I think this is where we bid adieu to Tahiti."

"It's a magical place," they both parroted.

John put his hand out and it disappeared after a certain spot. "Come on, we're leaving, Felix."

"John, I don't see a door," Felix admitted. "It's just for you. It seems."

He put his hand next to John's and his hand remained in sight, until like John.

"I'm not leaving you," John Garrett protested. "I'm not. We go together."

"You're a good friend, John," Felix stated. He then nodded his head and then with a strength belied by his wiry frame, he physically shoved John Garrett through the psychic gateway. John disappeared, hopefully back to his body, leaving Felix alone.

In Tahiti.

Which while being a magical place, it was a very lonely magical place because it was just Felix.

Not even a big goofy dog (who had promised to always love him best) to keep him company.

Just a hundred, thousand mental voices.

"I truly am indeed, alone again… naturally," Felix whispered. "Goodbye John. Take care of Phil."

* * *

Jemma Simmons quickly and efficiently put the food away. When Skye dumped all the lobster and crab legs into a bowl, and in her haste, threw it in the fridge without a cover, Jemma removed it. She separated the lobster from the crab, took the plastic wrap and carefully covered the bowls.

"When Felix comes back, he will be very upset if the food has gone bad," she informed Skye. "Trip, please be careful with the cake. John will want a piece as he likes Strawberry shortcake."

Her three kitchen serfs stared at her, and she lost her composure.

"Fine, go ahead and save the food for their wake," she snapped. "I'm not planning on attending it."

She lost her composure then, and wept even harder when her friends tightly embraced her. When she stopped sobbing like an idiot, she pulled herself together.

"I'll go get Winston's stuffed dragon. He'll need it if he stays the night," she announced as she walked towards Felix's room. Like she anticipated, Winston's stuffed animals were stacked neatly in a corner of Felix's bedroom, and she picked up the one she believed to be Winston's favorite, the big stuffed dragon that he squeaked merrily. "I wonder where Felix left your treats."

She opened a draw, nearly shut it when she realized that she finally an answer to the age old questions of boxers or briefs or the boxerbrief hybrid, but she didn't. There was a weathered leather journal, tied closed with an intricate knot, Blake's wallet and a neatly folded piece of paper that had been folded and refolded repeatedly. She took the piece of paper, opened it and realized it was a handwritten note that had been dated a week earlier.

**_Eeyore –_ **

**_To misquote the wise philosopher, Winne-the-Pooh, you're braver than you believe, and stronger than you credit yourself, and smarter than you think. Most importantly, you're not as broken as you fear yourself to be. You've come so far from the shell-shocked man I first met after the Battle of New York. I am so proud of you, Felix._ **

**_You're looking for permission from me. I can't give it to you, Eeyore. Only you, and you alone, not Tigger, not Pooh, can permit yourself to explore a mature, adult liaison with Simmons. Yes, Eeyore, you are more than capable of_ ** **_ equally _ ** **_participating in a relationship based on_ ** **_ mutual _ ** **_respect and affection with or without that motley crew of Tigger and Pooh hitching a ride. And yes, Eeyore, I mean a_ ** **_ healthy _ ** **_sexual relationship._ **

**_— Tim_ **

**_You can't stay in your corner of the Forest, hoping and praying that Kanga will notice you. You have to take the first few scary steps on your own. For the love of God, man, tell her that you're interested!_ **

**_TD_ **

With extreme carefulness she folded the note so when Felix returned, he wouldn't know that she had read his therapist's note. Felix had read it and read it again, had put the note away and then looked at it again, innumerous times based on the heavy creasing. She felt an almost physical pain in her chest, as she remembered how hopeful Felix had appeared when she had announced that she wished to be naughty with him. He had taken those scary first steps on his own and had desired clarification that she really wanted it (because he wished to be part of an equal, healthy relationship) and… she hadn't been able to voice it.

"When you're feeling better," she stated out loud, as she refused to even consider the alternative, that their conversation would not be held. "We will revisit our previous conversation. I don't plan for a great deal of conversation."

That done, she found the bag of treats and took it.

* * *

Trip, being the proud descendant of not only a Howling Commando but also a founder of S.H.I.E.L.D, broke nineteen traffic laws (some repeatedly), shredded the speed limit and managed to pull into the parking lot of the S.H.I.E.L.D. base some ten minutes after they had left the house. Simmons barely let him pull into the lot before she opened the door.

"I haven't stopped yet!" Trip protested as he slammed on the breaks.

"Have now," she protested as she escaped from the car in order to run into the building.

"I better go with her," Skye offered as both Trip and Fitz, being male, meant well but were clueless during emotional crises.

"I'll park the car and be in there in a minute," promised Trip. Not that Skye heard him as she had already left the vehicle. "Fitz, my man. Serious question, do all of Simmons' dates with her Agents end up with someone in the emergency room? I'm detecting a pattern with her."

Fitz nodded his head. Wearily.

"I am so glad you're not her type," Trip stated.

"They would have canceled my insurance by now," admitted Fitz.

* * *

She found Phil sitting by himself in the waiting room. Winston was also with him and Phil looked rather … well… crushed by the hundred pound dog that was attempting to sit in his lap. The dog was also rather energetically licking Phil's face.

"Winston? Jemma's here, go say, 'Hi'," Phil requested. "Please?"

The dog abandoned Phil and then greeted Jemma with a sad tail wag.

"I bought your stuffed dragon," Jemma informed the dog as she handed it to him. He was not interested in his favorite toy as he sighed. Loudly. She petted the dog and assured him that Felix knew he was there, and that he'd be glad to know that Winston was keeping an eye on Phil. "Phil, any news?"

"None. They were coding both of them … and…"

There was a loud noise, a great deal of medical equipment dropping on the floor and a loud scream.

"Agent Garrett!" the female voice repeated. "You are NOT getting off the bed."

"Where the goddamn hell are my clothes? Where is Blake?" Garrett roared. "If you're not going to tell me, I'll find Phil. **_COULSON_**!"

"Well, he sounds normal and his volume is back to his usual decibel also," Phil dryly admitted. "Better find out what's going on."

* * *

The three of them, Phil, Winston and Jemma ran back into the hallway where they discovered an absolutely starkers John Garrett yelling at three staff members. His cybernetic parts were glowing a healthy bright blue and he appeared a far cry from the man who had been on death's beach just a few minutes earlier. Jemma noticed due to her keen eye for observation, that he possessed multiple old burn marks, assorted surgical scars and a very healthy package. Between him and Felix, she would be having nights of sexual pleasure… she stopped that thought immediately, but she knew she blushed!

"John," Phil protested. "Can you just please behave?"

"Where's Blake? He was behind me when the bastard pushed me through probably because I was moving too slow," Garrett rambled. "We were in TAHITI…"

" ** _Tahiti_**?" Phil repeated.

"Which is not a magical place, I might add, as there were no cabanas," Garrett insisted. "Where are my clothes? Simmons, seriously, will you stop staring…. I'm from Texas, we're built big down there, ok? Blake and I were there, he mentioned the bots, the fact that he didn't ground the wiring… and…that he couldn't see the door…"

"Door?" A confused Phil repeated.

"He couldn't see the door… he couldn't put his hand through the door… he's still there… isn't he? In Tahiti?" John Garrett's righteous anger faded and with it, his ability to stand upright.

Phil supported John by letting the bigger man lean on him, and he guided him back to the trauma room.

"Phil, I fucking left him there," a stunned John Garrett softly protested as Phil helped him back into the bed. "I fucking left him there. It's my fault, as I left him behind. Oh shit, I told him that I wasn't gonna leave him there and he pushed me through the door."

Phil looked at the doctor, nodded his head and then leaned towards John Garrett in order to block his view of the doctor. "Tell me about the door, John."

"We were on a beach and then it appeared. OWWWW! You drugged me," John protested. He focused on Phil and then mumbled, "Least you gave me some really good shit, too. Phil… he's there… and he needs a door back."

"You better restrain him and keep him drugged," Phil informed the doctor. "He's a horrible patient."

"Got that idea, when he jumped out of the bed after a minute after being revived and he began shouting about Blake, Tahiti and doors," the doctor stated.

"Sorry, and thank you," Phil stated.

"We just did CPR and gave him some drugs until his cybernetics came online. His unique need is really above our ability to handle, Agent Coulson. Once he's stabilized, we need to send him back to HQ. The other guy… Blake? We got spontaneous respirations and pulses back on him, but he's nonresponsive."

"I need to see him," he ordered.

* * *

Felix Blake was quiet and still in his hospital bed, his shock of white (White? Hadn't be been more salt and pepper? ) hair and his general unhealthy pallor caused him to fade against the crisp white sheets. Winston ignored the protests of the medical staff and made himself comfortable on the bed as his pet needed him right now. After that ruckus settled down, the only sound in the room was the assorted beeps of various medical equipment. Jemma reached for Phil's hand, instinctively, and he squeezed her hand hard.

"He'll will be fine," she assured him.

"He better, else I'll kick his ass when we meet up again," Phil announced.

"I'll help," she stated fiercely.


	39. All by Myself

With a crisp efficiency, honed by decades in SHIELD, Phil Coulson took control of the situation. He scheduled a medevac helicopter for the morning to take John to HQ, arranged for Trip to ride Garrett's Harley back to Phil's apartment complex and then rather gently pissed off Jemma Simmons when he requested that she sit with Blake long enough for him to grab Blake's bike for transportation back to the facility. He had just exited Blake's hospital room when he informed her, "Trip will drive back here so you can get a ride back to the house. I'm assuming that you are all heading back home tomorrow, so you'll need a good night's sleep."

"I'm staying," she insisted. "You're not staying here by yourself."

Phil just shook his head and informed her, "I need someone to keep an eye on John while I'm here with Felix. You're the only one that might convince him to behave and I can't be in two places at once. I can't leave Felix and I can't leave John alone. Please stay with John."

She protested, and then he put his hands on her shoulders. "Please, I need someone with John because right now, I think Felix needs me more. If he's really in some sort of TAHITI-ShangriLa, maybe if I keep talking to him, he'll find that damn door that Garrett claims was there. If what John believes happened, really happened, and Felix was there, I mean… we're going so far off into the realms I can't even begin to comprehend, that means Felix is wandering around… **_alone_** … in the between here and there. Felix, ALONE, which is his greatest fear. Please, go with John."

Jemma accepted the truth in what he said.

"I'll talk to Felix while you're gone."

"If your chinwagging stops, he likes the classics. Beatles. Clapton. Harrison. Springsteen. Traveling Wilburys. Plus a smidgeon of Elvis Costello, Rage against the Machine, System of a Down and the Clash," Phil informed her. "Beastie Boys also."

"Rage against the Machine?" Jemma protested. "Not Felix."

"More oldFelix than nuFelix, I admit," Phil sighed. "He used to shred his electric, but after everything, he's more into acoustic guitar playing."

"You miss the old Felix, don't you? Jemma asked because she wondered what it would be like if Fitz, her closest and dearest friend, had been so badly traumatized that he lost the spark that made him Fitz?

"I miss the old Felix, but as you pointed out to us, I love the nuFelix. Even in the old days, he had his quirks. I wasn't too sure when I first met him, but Garrett told me to keep him close, because even then he had the reputation for being analytical and being on the ball. He saw the patterns and he saw the arrays, they just didn't control him like they do now."

"You'll have to tell me about the Old Felix," she requested. "Something that he'd be horrified if I knew."

"He can dance as he and I went undercover one time on a cruise ship as ball room dancers to uncover a drug smuggling operation. He used to be able to really rumba and the female agents went crazy over his cha cha cha. Peggy Carter, THE Peggy Carter, used to always insist that Felix escort her to the various functions so she'd have a dance partner. John has a scrapbook of pictures."

"And you?" Jemma asked. She leaned towards him and whispered, "The Lindy!"

"Paso Doble. Sadly, neither of us can samba anymore," Phil admitted quite mournfully. "That was back in the old days, you had a choice between aerobic exercises or ball room dancing as part of your physical education requirement, so we both decided it was safer. Really, Felix and I in tights and leg warmers?"

He shivered.

"I'll be back soon," he promised. "But, when you solo date Felix, makes sure he takes you out dancing."

* * *

Winston was lying quiet and still next to Felix. Jemma reached over to the dog and gave him a good scratch behind the ears.

"So glad they're letting you stay with him," she told the dog, who just sighed. Jemma pulled up a chair next to the hospital bed and she gently stroked Felix's hair. "Come back to us. You need to come back quickly as you'll get a horrible sunburn as you didn't bring any suntan lotion with you to that tropical in-between. That surprises me as you are normally overly prepared for all possible situations."

"Plus I want to be naughty with you. Very, very naughty, under the moonlight or in your bed, so wake up my dearest Prince Grumpy," she whispered. Then Jemma considered and pondered for a bit. "However, I think I want you take me out dancing as that way you'd be more comfortable touching me. Though I think I'd need to wrap you in bubble wrap as you always end up flat on your back in a hospital bed on our dates. I think you being flat on your back in a hotel bed would be much, much nicer for me, though I'd have to be careful with you. Make sure that you're feel safe and comfortable as I don't want to trigger anything."

She continued stroking his hair and she sighed. "I wish I hadn't been so nervous with you, I regret all the pain I caused you because of my uncertainties."

Then feeling foolish, she leaned next to him, and she whispered, "I should have kicked your tires. Hard. Repeatedly. Deliberately. Enthusiastically."

Her intentions expressed she placed a kiss on his forehead. "Find the door, Felix. Please."

* * *

She chatted at a very quiet Felix for a bit, put on some music (Beastie Boys) and promised him that she'd be back because she needed to make sure John was behaving. "You know how he is, without you and Phil, he's probably causing a ruckus. Be back soon, feel free to wake up while I'm gone."

Her wounded duckling's safety and comfort assured, she texted Skye a quick message and received a quick response. While she didn't want to leave Felix alone, fortunately John Garrett was next door. John was being compliant and resting due to being heavily medicated. She noticed but failed to comment that his hands were restrained.

"Hey, here to rescue you? I need to see Sparky," he stated.

"You're not getting out of bed," she insisted before she murmured a disapproving, "Sparky?"

"You could wheel me over to see Sparky," he suggested.

"You're not in any condition to be disconnected from the various machines that are keeping you alive," she reminded him. "And stop calling him Sparky."

John Garrett turned serious and he growled, "I can call that stupid fucker anything I want. Sparky is being kind. Being a gentleman, I've decided not to call him a fucking stupid asshole in front of you. If you don't like Sparky, would you prefer Zappy? No, Roddie for lightning Rod? Or maybe just Dirt because the asshole wasn't grounded."

She exhaled slowly before she poked him in the chest. Hard.

"You're just pissed because he out Garretted you," she stated. "You were busy planning a wonderful death on your own terms and he had to protect you from your stupidity."

"I went into a goddamn collapsed building to find Sparky," he snapped. "I bought an extended guarantee on him so yes, I'm pissed that he decided to electrocute himself. It invalidates his warranty."

Who was he fooling? Not Jemma Elizabeth Simmons, MA, MS, MS, PhD, PhD

"After you knew that Phil was dead, you went into a collapsed building to find Felix. You didn't really anticipate that Felix was still alive, did you, John? You went into the building to die," she retorted. "You're so used to facing your own mortality that you don't even want to live anymore."

That slipped out and he glared at her.

"I've apparently broken cardinal rule number one," he roared. "And shattered rule number two."

"Which is?" She asked.

"Don't ever date someone who's far smarter than you could ever hope to be!"

She swallowed once, twice, three times and then held out her phone. "I took a video of him for you."

"That's rather stalkerish, don't you think? I mean, I watched you while you were sleeping is a rather creepy pick up line, don't you agree?" he asked, as he settled back into the bed and watched the video that she played on her small phone screen. "You're staying here with Phil, right?"

"No, I'm supposed to keep an eye on you when they ship you out," she admitted.

"If anything happens to Felix," he protested.

"Winston will be here, while if anything happens to you, you'll be alone," she reminded him. "Besides, I can't leave you until you confess what rule number two is."

"Group dating is all fun and games until…." He began before he stopped.

"Everyone ends up in the hospital," she quipped, but he shook his head in tired denial.

"What?" she pleaded.

"You and your two brothers are both interested in the same woman. While she might have been interested in a threesome… she hasn't expressed an interest in a quartet," he shrugged his shoulders and winked at her. She blushed and Garrett shook his head. "Didn't mean to embarrass you, but you have bowled over the three of us."

Oh, he had to do a bowling ball pun, so she threw it back at him. "I noticed a… spark."

He softly laughed and motioned for her to leave. "Keep an eye on Blake. He's really quite attracted to you. He'll never tell you, but it's pretty obvious. Phil is also, but they're being noble idiots and want to put their needs last."

"I was an only child," she admitted. "I always thought that having three children…would be a lovely sized family."

She paused, and Garrett narrowed his eyes at her. "Tell me about this ideal family of yours. There's a beautiful and brainy mom, three children… and a dog…."

"A very intelligent dog," she admitted and then she smiled at him. "He believes that he's human, so I guess he would be her oldest son. Fortunately, he never gives her a lick of trouble, though he insists on sitting in her lap."

"And …. Dadddddd…" he drawled. "Tell me about your fantasy dadddddddd…."

"Dads?" she murmured. She gasped out loud in her embarrassed horror, and she placed both her hands over her mouth. Her blush was thermonuclear and she shook her head.

"Do each of us get to be a father?" he softly asked. "In your fantasy family, are there three fathers? Three best friends who refused to let Beauty and Brains destroy their friendship?"

"There might be," she admitted.

"Come here," he whispered. She leaned next to him and he whispered, "If you're serious about having three old men as brother-husbands, when you're comfortable in the relationship, have Felix father your first child. Don't tell him that you've selected him, just take him by the hand and seduce him. Then tell him in a few weeks what you two have done. Else he'll overthink everything and panic. He'll still panic, but he won't run."

"It isn't a very proper family," Jemma softly admitted. "People will talk."

"We don't admit to anything," John suggested. "Now, get back to Felix and give him some encouragement. In a few months, if you're really serious about this, we'll discuss it further. Or maybe we won't, because you're too honest. It might be time for duplicity and strategic planning. Now, go get Felix back. Our nefarious plans for a very untraditional family will only work if you can convince Felix that there's a door there with his name on it."

"As long as you get some sleep," she insisted.

"Promise. As long as when they wheel me out tomorrow I can see him," John requested.

"Promise. Pinky Swear."

When she returned back to Felix's room, she found an exhausted Phil slumped by the bedside. Guided by instinct, she sat next to Phil and she positioned herself so his head rested on her shoulder. Then, deliberately, she stroked his face and felt his tenseness fade.

"I'm here," she whispered. "I'm not going anywhere tonight."

"Pretty rude that you had Trip tell me that you were staying here tonight," he protested.

"Figured it was the only way I'd win," she admitted. "I have to use my feminine wiles and my superior brains to get what I want when I'm dealing with the three of you."

"Hope Felix is what you want, because it's not looking good," Phil admitted in a very tremulous voice. "I always thought John would be the first to go… not Felix. Never ever Felix. He'd live to be a hundred and fifty because he's… he's… he's…so damn cautious."

"Shhh…" she whispered. "I've told Felix that he needs to come back, so he will. I gave him some personal incentive."

* * *

Felix Blake stood on the beach and he stared at the setting sun. It was sinking closer and closer to the horizon and … the skies were getting dark.

"Where's the goddamn door?" he whispered. "I don't want to be left alone in the dark. Doesn't anyone care that I'm here?"

_I was alone, I was all by myself_

_No one was looking, I was thinking of you_

_Oh yeah, did I mention I was all by myself_

_All by myself..._

_All by myself..._

_All by myself..._


	40. Property of Jemma Simmons

"It's ok if you fall asleep," Phil offered her sometime in the early morning hours. "These damn rooms are always so chilly, and honestly, Sleeping Beauty won't mind if you take a nap. 'Sides, I know from personal experience John can be very exhausting."

His smile was warm, gentle and… surprisingly full of approval. He placed his arm around her and pulled her closer to him. Carefully, as he ensured that she had enough leeway to pull away.

"Felix should be awake by now," she protested, even as she leaned closer to Phil. She needed reassurance from the most stalwart of her boys.

"They said the EEG looked good, that the delta waves means he's just in a deep dreamless sleep. I'm glad, I mean… I'd rather he was awake, but dreamless is good. He had these horrible nightmares where he'd wake, screaming, because he thought he was trapped beneath the building."

"Does he still have them?" she asked.

"Sometimes, he can go months without one, then something will trigger him…. NIKKI…. And he'll have a string of nights where he won't sleep," he confessed.

"And how about you?"

"Same. Though any and all interactions with Nikki causes me to have nightmares of being married to her," he grimaced and trembled in mock fear.

"You three are just entwined with each other…" Jemma murmured. "How can I hope to choose between the three of you?"

She offered that tentatively, to judge his reaction. He was the lynchpin, the fulcrum of her fellows. If John made a decision and Felix disagreed, Felix would capitulate only if PHIL agreed with John.

Sadly, Phil was being particularly dense.

"That's the rationale behind the solo dates. Hopefully, they'll be much calmer than the group dates else we'll need medics on standby. On your solo date with the bachelor of your choice, you'll hopefully learn about some horrible personality quirk that will be a deal breaker if you have to deal with it for a lifetime. John can't cook, Felix… Felix has a strange relationship with his ex and… poor Phil… he has a red corvette."

"What's the problem with a red corvette?"

"And old man with a red corvette named Lola? After-life crisis," he quipped. "Now go to sleep, Jemma."

"As long as I can cuddle," she prompted. "I found that I quite like cuddling. I plan on doing more of it, once Felix is better."

To her surprise, Phil agreed and started to stroke her hair.

"Felix will be fine," he assured her. "He's a really tough bastard with a very soft and squishy interior as you know. Jemma Simmons has managed to wiggle her way beneath his Vibranium exterior much to his utter confusion. Now, get some sleep."

"I don't think I'm the only one that has wiggled beneath the Vibranium," she admitted.

"Who else? Fitz is a given, as you're FitzSimmons after all. Trip is John's former rook, so Felix knows him."

"Mary Sue," Simmons teased because she was utterly convinced that Skye had a crush on her boss (and his cute butt). Not that Jemma could blame her as once you got to know Felix, the sweet soul behind the grouchy exterior, well, who could resist him?

Phil smiled, and shook his head. "It's because he looks at her in complete and utter confusion sometimes. Gives her a sense of power."

Having many a schoolgirl crush, Jemma had easily accepted that Skye did not feel a sense of empowerment when Felix Blake stared at her in confusion. Not at all. It made Skye giddy because he noticed her. But sad, also, because Felix was 'dating' Jemma and Skye wouldn't do anything to interfere.

It was all very complicated and a shame, as Skye's previous boyfriend hadn't even been housebroken! While Jemma had three men who had all their vaccinations and didn't pee on the rug. It didn't mean that they weren't in dire need of adult supervision (See recent events for further clarification) but they could be left alone for short periods of time with the electrical sockets kiddy-proofed. Felix seemed to have a strange desire to get electrocuted, so she needed to make sure that he couldn't stick a fork in the socket.

And if it was just Jemma (and Winston) against the three of them, it might be beneficial to have backup. Though really, Jemma Simmons was exhausted both physically and emotionally. She was most assuredly not thinking straight especially if she was wondering about sharing men who weren't hers yet.

"Shhh… get some sleep," Phil insisted. He continued to stroke her hair until she had fallen asleep, and only then did he permit himself to marvel at how soft her hair was.

_Why is this occurring now? Is it just Simmons? Or is she the catalyst as thanks to her, I was finally able to admit that I love Felix and John?_

* * *

He smelled coffee.

In the middle of a beach that was neither here nor there, but everywhere.

There was no coffee cabana as far as the eye could see. There was no unearthly minion serving hot coffee but he decided to trudge toward the aroma as well, there was nothing else to do in Purgatory Beach. Shuffleboard had been canceled due to lack of participants, and his hip was ablaze in pain so that meant he couldn't boogie board. Really, he was dead, was it necessary for his hip to continue to hurt?

That morning had started like every other morning, when Winston had licked his face and breathed his bad doggie breath in his face as he had required his morning walk. (Since he was dead, he hoped that Phil was remembering to brush Winston's teeth and clean his beard every single day else it would rapidly become a rancid mess. He made a mental note to haunt Phil as necessary to confirm that he was being a good Doggie Daddy to Winston.)n the beach.

Definitely there had been no Winston, just sand as it seemed that he had fallen asleep o

And the sound of coffee beans being grounded, which meant that those brave souls had given up their lives for the greater good. It… sounded like his beloved Bonavita BV1800 that had been taken from him by a real bitch and who had been loving returned to him by a pair of crazed comrades.

High quality beans from the smell, and they had been roasted to absolute perfection.

The aroma was heavenly. (beachy?) And his mouth watered even while his stomach growled.

He continued to sniff and followed the scent until at last he found a cup of coffee… that hovered… in the middle of nowhere.

"This afterlife really sucks and the symbolism is rather bleak, as I don't get a door, I don't get a dog, I get a cup of black coffee," he announced. "But I'll forgive the deity in charge as long as that cup of coffee is as good as it smells. There better not be any of that soy milk crap in it. I want this coffee as black as my mood and as acidic as my humor."

He reached for it.

* * *

He was falling…. Or swimming… or something… but he could hear someone talking.

"And you need to come back because I have scheduled my GED, and without you, there is no chance I will pass the Reasoning Through Language Arts battery because while Simmons can Science me, and AC is willing to handle the Social Science, and Fitz will Mathemitize me, there's no one that can vivisect anyone like you can by merely utilizing the English Language," Skye prattled.

He opened his eyes, realized that everyone…. Everyone…was in his room, including John Garrett, who was in a bright yellow stretcher. Winston, naturally, was the only one that cared that he was awake, so Winston licked him.

"The word vivisection is used when surgery is conducted for experimental purposes on a living organism. When I skewer someone, I'm not experimenting," he whispered. "Mathemitize is not a word. Either. Never. Ever. Consider that your lessons for today."

He closed his eyes and wished for sweet, blessed solitude.

"Felix is awake," a delighted Mary Sue yelped. "He just spoke and then criticized me! FELIX IS BACK!"

"Agent Blake. I will remain Agent Blake to you until the sun no longer rises, or our relationship is no longer professional. The first is far more likely than the second." He was too weak to put any bite in his tone, but Mary Sue smiled.

"He's being snarky," Mary Sue continued her play by play for those in the cheap seats. "Next, he'll tell me to get out."

He pointed towards the door and to his complete confusion a tearful Mary Sue roughly embraced him. "He's back from Tahiti! I was so worried as you were the only person who was willing to be my boss."

"Tahiti - It's a magical place," intoned the three Tahiti evacuees.

"Oh, shit," stated Coulson. Then in a soft whisper which only Garrett could hear, he added, "We need to talk, Garrett."

"We do," admitted Garrett in just as soft a voice. "I think we had some of that Jesus Juice."

There was a brief ruckus and then Jemma Simmons pushed Mary Sue off his bed. Jemma poked Felix in the chest, hard, ignored his wince of pain, and she glared. She was the very epitome of a pissed off Priscilla.

"Very angry with you," she stated. "Very angry. Why did you do anything that stupidly reckless?"

"I thought you and John had come to an understanding," he admitted. "Wanted you both happy. That meant he had to live."

Her righteous wrath faded into another emotion. Her lip quivered and then she hugged him, tightly, while she sobbed.

"Ok, everybody, get out of the room. I want to call him an asshole in private," John Garrett bellowed.

"When you get better, Felix, I'm teaching you how to ground a wire," Fitz informed him, while Trip gave him an air fist bump. Skye, who was acting strange, as though she actually liked him, as opposed to tolerating him because of Phil, John and Jemma, waved goodbye as the three left.

Jemma Simmons, in the meanwhile, still sobbed and clutched at him. She threatened to kick him repeatedly, a threat probably well-deserved he admitted, and tires… did her Nissan Maxima need tires? He'd check the tread once he got back on his feet. Really, he thought he had checked them already, but... if she was talking about tires...

"I'm so confused," he admitted as he looked at Phil (never ever Garrett) for guidance. "So terribly, terribly confused."

"Welcome to Jemmaville," Phil informed him. Phil then shrugged his shoulders in mock defeat. "Never a dull moment."

"We're getting shirts and everything," John Garrett promised. "They'll say 'PROPERTY OF JEMMA SIMMONS'."

"And on the back they will say, 'IF FOUND, PLEASE RETURN. REWARD," Jemma added.


	41. Jemma Simmons, Mistress of Misdirection

[TWO WEEKS post Felix-Electrocution - Approximately 3 months after Jemma's first group date where she passed out twice and required hospitalization.]

* * *

The team was in Blake's office, waiting for the Guest of Honor and his Dog.

"We're getting a little too good at throwing together these 'Welcome Back, Blake' parties," Skye stated as she looked at her latest Masterpiece of stacked bagels. This time it was a much smaller party, with only the eight of them plus Mrs. Roberts from the cafeteria had been invited as she could bake. However, she believed that Blake's office full of computer monitors looked rather festive as she had hung shredded color paper throughout the office.

"That's because I don't have an office, Bright Skies," Garrett admitted as he finished hanging the Welcome Back, Blake banner. "Else I'd hope you'd throw me a party as I've been recharged."

"I wouldn't throw you a bone," she retorted.

"That hurts! She wounded me, fatally. Jemma, don't you care?" Garrett asked.

"No," Jemma said as she scrunched up her face. "You're a big boy, and get yourself into all sorts of trouble, unlike poor Felix, where trouble just seems to jump him in a dark alley, beats him up, steals his lunch money and then requires hospitalization."

A blushing Skye giggled and Jemma stared at her. It was so obvious that Skye had a crush on Blake! Fortunately Skye was surrounded by men, who while quite utterly adorable, were also particularly thick when it came to basic human emotions. Trust Jemma when she said that, as she dealt with it every single day.

"What?" Simmons finally asked.

"You're just so cute when you call Agent Blake, poor Felix," Skye giggled. "The man who could stare down a T-Rex with those laser pointers he calls eyes? And you call him 'Poor Agent Blake'. I feel more sympathy for the T-Rex."

"He is still making you call him **_Agent Blake_**?" Simmons asked. "Really?"

"I'm to call him Agent Blake until the Earth blows up," Skye admitted, before adding in a much softer voice. "Unless our relationship takes a personal turn."

"Hey," Simmons commiserated. "He can be rather grouchy."

"Grouchy? He refuses to call me Skye during office hours as that's not my legal name. He yelled at me for my finances, and told me that I needed more self-respect because any man that expects his girlfriend to hock her soul to bail him out of jail and then absconds… doesn't deserve any loyalty. He didn't expect it, I did it because I loved Miles, because he was the first constant in my life. However, my first supposed constant was just as consistent as everyone else in my life, he didn't love me back, it seems, and he left me, like everyone else. And everybody gets to call Agent Blake, Felix, except for me. I guess because I'm not worthy."

Thanks to her experience with her boys, Jemma Simmons' rather adolescent views on **_love_** had undergone a rather dramatic metamorphosis. Love existed in many forms, many shapes, and it wasn't limited to just two people. It could sustain three badly damaged men, could occur between two BFFs with no fear of sexual attraction, and it just might possibly expand to include one woman, three men and a very smart canine, so why not stretch it a little further?

Especially since both Felix and Skye had a justifiable fear of abandonment?

"I'll never leave you," Simmons promised, as she pretended not to notice as Skye wiped away a tear. "We're BFFs. You can also count on the rest of us, Fitz, Trip, Phil, John and even T-Rex intimidating Agent Blake. In fact, I'll share something with you just to prove that he's really not that bad."

She whipped out her tablet and tapped her pictures. She found her personal favorite of Felix, when he was still in the hospital after being rescued. He was in pretty rough shape with his legs were pinned with surgical screws but Felix was broadly grinning as the newly presented Winston had decided to give his new pet a facial by licking him. It was his rare grin of pure delight that made it her favorite picture of him. "Here."

Skye tapped the photos and then she smiled, "So he is human, plus he's hiding quite the set of shoulders under that suit jacket. Really, that picture of him in the rainstorm… really shows off his biceps. We should submit it to the SHIELD calendar."

"Very much human," Jemma assured her. "He's just very reserved until he gets comfortable with you. Like someone I know, he fears being abandoned by those closest to him. It takes him time to trust someone."

"But Fitz…" Skye protested.

"Isn't his assistant. Claire was always quitting on him, after all. Plus, secretly, I think you scare him more than I ever did."

"I didn't put him in the hospital," protested Skye.

"I wish people would stop mentioning that," Simmons demurely protested. "I'm sure it's quite normal for the average person to have an occasional emergent care visit during any three month period."

Skye just sighed in a "Are you really serious?" way before she retorted, "Medevac helicopters? Ambulance? Surgical manipulation of a dislocated hip? What type of people did you hang out with before I met you? So this amount of sheer carnage this seems normal?"

"Not a great many," Simmons admitted. "I just had Fitz."

* * *

Felix walked into his office, looked at the 'Welcome Back, Blake' sign that had been recycled from his previous Medical Leave and he sighed. Loudly.

"Come on, bagels, Felix! Bagels! With hot pepper cream cheese spread, it's even got jalapenos!" Garrett announced.

"We're seemingly making a habit of broadcasting whenever I'm back in the office? And jalapenos cream cheese?" A shuddering Blake protested.

Jemma noticed that Skye had deflated, as it had been her idea to welcome back Blake, so she sprang into action. "You're not fooling any of us. You're touched," she cooed before she kissed him on the cheek. "Welcome back."

"That's right, Felix is really touched!" Garrett added.

Blake grumped a bit longer, Garrett catcalled and Fitz and Trip, being growing boys with healthy… appetites, inhaled as many pastries as they could. Finally Phil had enough and he tapped Felix on his shoulder. "I think it's really rather nice of your assistant to go to this trouble, Felix. Especially as you are making a habit of being out for extended periods of time. I'd have stopped after the first party."

A properly chastised Felix nodded his agreement. "Thank you, Mary Sue. It was quite … unexpected… to come back to this. I'm sure Garrett is really delighted as he's on his fifth bagel."

"Second," protested John Garrett. "Not to rat out a friend, but Fitz is on his fourth piece of coffee cake."

"I was feeling a bit peckish," Fitz admitted. "Plus this gooey butter cake is really good."

"You made gooey butter cake?" Felix protested. "And nobody left me a piece? Isn't this my party, Mary Sue? You didn't make sure these gluttons saved me a piece?"

Skye looked properly horrified, but she was rescued by someone who wasn't having any of Blake's bad behavior.

"Don't worry, dear. I made you your own cake. Now you go sit down, as I can tell you're favoring your bad leg. You don't need to be so vain, Felix. I know there's two pretty girls here, but you need to take care of yourself. You should be using your cane, dear. Now, go sit down in your office and I'll bring you your breakfast because you're being a bit cranky," Mrs. Roberts, cafeteria worker, lovingly chastised Felix Blake. "I also made your favorites, those custard twists that you like so much."

Felix Blake, unable to withstand the onslaught of Mrs. Roberts, cafeteria worker, fled, with a noticeable limp, to his office. Mrs. Roberts loudly sighed, and shook her head. "Such a sweet young man, but he needs a minder. Plus a good spanking when he gets cranky."

"That was so impressive," Skye softly admitted to Jemma. "Did you pick up pointers on how to manage him? He completely folded when he was presented with dessert."

"I was married for forty three years," Mrs. Roberts explained. "Have worked for SHIELD for forty five years, and I can handle Agents. John, feet off the table, please. This is not a barn, this is a workplace Trip? You've got powdered sugar on your face. Say hello to your grandfather. Gabe is such a sweet, polite and dignified man. Trip takes after him though Gabe never wore powdered sugar on his face."

With that, Mrs. Robert left, leaving stunned silence in her wake.

"Wow, she is just amazing," Skye stated. "Probably Director Fury is secretly terrified of her."

"True," Trip admitted after having wiped his face clean of powdered sugar. "I know Granddad was."

* * *

Phil asked Jemma if she would mind coming to his office for a few minutes after the party had broken up and Trip had scarfed the last bagel. They walked in companionable silence and then they sat at his conference table.

"Jemma, you know we've been quasi dating for three rather eventful months," Phil began. "I think we've reach a point where I can ask you something rather personal."

She smiled brightly and nodded her head.

"And I have a question I need to ask you." Phil paused and Jemma could almost hear his unasked question, _"Do you want to spend the night with me?"_

"Jemma… do you …" he paused and looked absolutely adorably uncertain.

"Yes," she interrupted. "Absolutely."

Phil exhaled loudly and shook his head in disbelief.

"Skye is really flirting with Garrett?" Phil asked. "Is she just playing or is she serious, because I'm not sure."

Her heart shattered into a hundred million little pieces as that was NOT the question for which she had hoped.

"That wasn't the question I thought you couldn't ask," she admitted. She didn't bother to hide her disappointment.

"What was the question you thought I couldn't ask?"

Being a good girl, Jemma Simmons couldn't quite bring herself to state directly what she hoped he would say.

"No, no, no. Skye is not flirting with John. She's just being really friendly. Besides, he's not the one that she's interested in." Her jaw dropped and she placed both hands over her mouth to prevent further spillage.

Phil's smile faded and then he leaned towards her. "I feel a responsibility for Skye as I brought her into SHIELD. I keep an eye on her, and I want to keep her from trouble such as Grant Ward. Who is she interested in? And who do I have to threaten? We all know her previous boyfriend didn't treat her well."

Jemma panicked, and said the first thing that came to her mind, "You know that I haven't seen you naked yet. I've seen the other two, but not you, so I was hoping that you were going to offer so that's what I said yes to."

Phil's kindly smile faded into something that might be better described as shocked horror.

"Both of them were in the hospital and heavily drugged. Well, that's Felix's excuse and John is just… an exhibitionist," he gamely protested. "We constantly have to remind him to put his clothes back on. We beg him, in fact."

"For scientific research, I really must request that you drop trow. When can we schedule?" she asked, deliberately using the English pronunciation. "I have my smartphone so let's schedule the defrocking. I'm assuming you want to cuddle with the boys tonight, so tomorrow night? All mine? Yes, that means Felix is stuck with John."

She smiled brightly.

"You're trying to change the subject with a very decadent offer," he stated.

"Am not," she protested. Her eyes were big and radiated complete innocence.

"You are the world's worst liar, Jemma Simmons. Your eyes get frantic and your voice goes up an octave when you lie," Phil informed her. "Plus that smile. It makes me think you put a dent in Lola after you stole her for a joyride."

"I am not the world's worst liar," she protested, even as yes… her voice went up an octave.

"It's really rather cute. But you're trying to sidetrack me off the subject. I was right then. Skye is practicing her flirting on John and Felix due to an unidentified new interest. She's practicing on them as she views them as safe and harmless and they won't take her seriously. I'm wondering if you might tell me who her crush might be?"

"I thought you said she was just flirting with John. Now it's Felix also? Should I be worried that she might try flirting with you?" Jemma asked and then gave Phil a big wide smile. "I'm not big on sharing. Well, not until I'm secure in the fact that all three of you are completely mine, heart and soul. After that, feel free to play amongst yourselves until I require your adoration."

Felix would have crumpled like tin, John would have laughed but Phil was not either of them. No, he just shook his head and leaned still closer to her.

"Jemma, who is Skye interested in?" Phil asked.

She stammered, she stuttered and finally she just said, "I just noticed that she was interested in someone. She didn't tell me, and I'm not sure if she realized that I noticed. It's a crush and she'd be horrified if anyone realized, especially the victim."

"The victim?" Phil repeated her verbiage. "Jemma Elizabeth Simmons, do I need to get my gun and start threatening someone to ensure that she is treated well?"

"NO!" She squeaked. "I think he's someone you'd trust with Skye."

"The people I'd trust with Skye are the fewer than the number of people I'd trust with you," he protested. "You have proven yourself quite capable of maiming all who dare stand behind you in a bowling area."

Really, she'd never live that down, sigh.

Jemma put her phone away with a loud snap and decided to end the conversation about Skye's crush by playing dirty. "You know, maybe it's better if I don't see you naked. I mean, you have a great deal to live up to. I mean… John… and…. Felix…. It is so true what they say about feet size, and Felix does have bigger feet than you and John. I think he wears at least a thirteen. It's very impressive as his feet are perfectly proportioned to the rest of him. It's a good thing he wears those god-awful suits, because everyone would be after him if they realize what they camouflaged."

Phil Coulson's jaw dropped and he looked properly gobsmacked.

"Tonight, my place," he finally managed to say. "I'll walk around bare… footed, so you can satisfy your ph…foot fetish."

"Can't wait," she stated, in pure evil delight.

"Uhmm… I can keep my shirt on, right?" Phil asked. He didn't look at her, instead, he was staring at his desk, completely focused on a toy red corvette that he used as a paperweight.

"Of course," she softly assured him before she realized that she had pushed too hard, too fast for Phil's comfort in order to protect Skye's feelings. "In fact, we'll both keep our clothes and our shoes on and cuddle while we watch a movie. Pick one out, I'll bring dinner. I'm sorry, I am. I was being really bad so you'd changed the subject. Just please don't ask me who Skye has the crush on. She'd be so horribly embarrassed if anyone knew, especially him."

Phil nodded his head and sighed. "So no chance that he might be interested back?"

"I think he'd be stunned if he realized," Jemma admitted. "Actually, I quite fear that he'd fall over quite utterly dead in shock."

"That's a shame, as she needs to have fun with a nice guy her own age. She needs to stop hanging around with us old fogies."

And Jemma Simmons just nodded her head as really what could she say to THAT?

* * *

Felix Blake's over active psyche was having a bad night where the patterns and the arrays in his brain had decided to have an all-night bender and bring him along for the ride. They played logic pool and played several hands of causality cards but the absolute positively last straw was when they played destiny dice.

The gleeful patterns (how he hated them, as they were so damn compelling as they stole his sleep from him) rubbed the dice in their non-corporeal hands and threw them, hard. They bounced off the back of the crap table. He couldn't help himself, he stared at the dice, to determine what his subconscious had struggled to tell him, what he wasn't consciously seeing.

He took one long look, then a second, and then a third.

"Oh, fuck no," he whispered. "I really Blaked out if my subconscious noticed that. There is no way in hell. NONE. Lock that thought down, Felix. Ain't no way in hell that's remotely possible."


	42. Amélie

Jemma Simmons deeply inhaled and slowly exhaled in order to calm her nerves. Then deliberately, she knocked on the door and Phil opened the door. He was wearing a battered t-shirt and jeans and most assuredly….he was wearing… NO SHOES.

No socks either.

Naturally, Simmons handled his feckless, bare naked feet appearance in an adult manner.

"OhmygoodGod!" she protested even while her cheeks flamed.

He just smiled, took her bag of Thai Takeaway and ushered her into the kitchen, where there were four pieces of paper on the floor. A cursory glance made it seem as though four children had gotten out a black Sharpie marker and had drawn a foot or four. Then a closer glance made her realize that there were three human feet, (emblazoned with either Felix, John or Phil) and one that had Winston's paw print with a scrawled W.

And Felix had been kind enough to put down his foot size in inches with a scrawled note (Garrett's handwriting) about Felix having the biggest feet of the three.

"Ohmygoodgod," she repeated.

"What?" he asked.

"You all drew an outline of your feet?" she asked. "And measured them?"

"Well, John drew the outline of Felix's foot as Felix is having difficulties bending and technically, Winston is a pawprint but he wanted to be included. Even though he's a dog … and he was given the Big Snip."

"It's a shame, as there will be no more little Winstons."

Phil laughed and agreed. "He's a really odd choice for a Service Dog. It's usually Labs or a Retriever, as a Giant Schnauzer is usually too independent but… Winston is Winston. Tim pulled strings to get him for Felix and it's been a life saver. I think they get along as well as they do because they're both stubborn gits."

He smiled and motioned for her to take plates out of the cupboard.

T

"Uh… you do know that Nikki really did love Felix, right?" he asked. "John and my obviously dislike for being rather blatant, I should mention that."

She stopped and looked at him. "Whatever brought this on?"

There, that was handled in an adult manner.

"That comment you made about choosing between the three of us. I haven't been really fair about Nikki. She really did love Felix and Felix was wild about her. She just felt marginalized by our friendship. When he got hurt, John and I swooped in because it was far easier to deal with Felix's issues than face ours head on. I think that when Felix wanted to recommit to their relationship, she panicked, as she feared a lifetime of being a captive studio audience for the Felix, John and Phil show."

Jemma decided to reflect on Phil's confession.

"Has John been trying to talk you into a … untraditional relationship?" Phil asked as he began opening various containers. She noticed that he wasn't looking at her while he talked so he was giving her a tentative sort of privacy. "Because Felix won't go for that, not after Nikki."

"Phil, you three have been sleeping together for the last two years…"

"We stopped," Phil insisted.

"Which you didn't have to do," she said. "That relationship is extremely untraditional. Notice the use of the current tense because Phil, it's not over, even though your self-imposed celibacy is really quite…sweet."

"My knees get so weak when you enunciate," he quipped. "It's just if John starts talking crazy…"

"John always talks crazy, it's part of his charm. You're the sane one, John is crazy and Felix is the one that tilts his head in utter befuddlement."

Phil exhaled, and Jemma extended her hand to stop him from talking.

"I understand, you want me to realize that Felix will need a great deal of gentle prodding to come around with my line of thinking because his former fiancée couldn't handle the three of you at one time. Well, I have my bowling ball and I'm not afraid to utilize it. It's really for your own good, as quite frankly, you three are so intertwined that I'd need to hire a surgeon with considerable skill to separate you."

Phil just stared at her in complete (and rather adorable) confusion.

"You're like little baby ducklings, you've imprinted on each other and can't be separated. So really I take the three of you, or I call Grant and Jasper and tell them that I've reconsidered."

She smiled brightly and Phil whispered a prayer, "My God, and we thought we had to protect YOU. Who the hell is protecting US?"

"I am," she smiled as she straighten his shirt. "You three together, are a natural disaster, coiled and waiting to be unleashed unto the unsuspecting public. You need to be protected from yourselves before you do anything stupid. However, I can't really think of anything stupider than Felix electrocuting himself, but I fear John will try to beat him so he can win the latest contest round of 'Who's the Noblest' among you three."

"Do you really think you could love three men?" Phil asked. "Be truthful.'

"I'm quite fond of the three of you. You've been utterly sweet and patient with me, and maybe… I could love you three… maybe I already do, but I have just overanalyzed it as Felix has rubbed off on me. But I know that there's no chance of only having one of you in my life. It's all three or none of you."

"Actually four," Phil reminded her.

"Yes, adorable Winston. But what I need to determine is how far you three will permit me into your hearts and souls?" Jemma admitted. "Nikki dated Felix for how long?"

"Five years, give or take," Phil admitted.

"And she never felt accepted by you and John? That she was always looking in from the outside?" Jemma pointed out. "What about Audrey? Did she feel accepted by John and Felix?"

"Yes. The both of them always went out of their way with Audrey," Phil insisted.

"Felix told me that he had only met Audrey a few times, so they were on their best behaviors. What would have happened if she lived here instead of infrequent visits here? Witnessed your closeness? Decided to have a baby with you and…"

"She would always have come first with me," Phil interrupted. "Especially then."

"While Nicolette who was discussing having children with Felix, needed to be first in Felix's life. I'm sure being pregnant brings out a woman's worst insecurities as it's not all, 'I'm having his baby, joy, joy, joy'… but a lot of 'Omigod, I can't see my feet as I swallowed Manhattan'."

Phil snorted, and explained, "I hope the mother is having THEIR baby, not just his baby. Please. We three are idiots but not that bad. We men do very little in the process, but the female does all the heavy lifting, as it were. And I promise you that your follicly challenged suitors will be utterly enthralled with you, even if you are ten months along with septuplets. I beg you to refrain from that, as I truly fear you might do that. I know your personal preference to be dazzlingly efficient."

"So she panicked," Jemma explained. "Ran for the hills. She needed to be the center of Felix's life. His sole existence for being."

"Good Lord, you're making me feel back for Nikki," Phil quipped.

"Don't, because she abandoned Felix when he needed her most. If she had just fought a little harder, she would be a stay at home suburban mom with a minivan full of kids, completely secure in the knowledge that she was the absolute center of his life. You three together are very intimidating, very much a united band of brothers, but she was insecure and weak, and she caved."

Phil reached out to her and tilted her chin so she was looking at him.

"And what about your self-esteem, Jemma? Don't you believe that you're worthy of being the center of a much younger someone's life? Being the reason why they get out of bed in the morning? Instead of being lost in the shuffle?" Phil asked.

"I'm been known as FitzSimmons since I was 16. Been part of a package deal for so long that now that I finally know you three, the Buy One, Get Two Free offer doesn't scare me as much as it first did. I'm not jealous of your relationship with John and Felix." There. That sounded adult like.

"As much," Phil pounced on her bad choice of words. "You said, 'scare me as much'…."

"I worry about my sexual inexperience," she admitted that quickly, in fact too quickly for Phil to immediately comprehend. "How can I hope to keep you three sexually satisfied?"

"Actually, it's the other way around," Phil admitted. "You haven't hit your peak yet, we did a while ago and we're coasting. We may not be able to keep up with your appetite. Plus, as I have been reminded by everyone, I still have to 'drop trow' for you so you can compare me to my Big Footed Friends. The sad sight may prove a deal breaker for you. Shall I do it now?"

He put his hands on the waistband of his jeans, and undid the button.

"Phil," she protested. Then in a louder tone when she realized that his hand was on his zipper. AND YES, HE WORE CAPTAIN AMERICA BOXERS. "PHIL!"

"We could go to medical, as you seem to have a preference for viewing Team Jemma's… attributes in a medical setting…" he continued. With a straight face that was absolutely ruined by the twinkle in his eyes.

"No, I don't need you to drop your trousers for me," she protested. "Can we just eat Thai and watch a movie. What are we watching?"

" _Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain_ ," he enunciated in flawless French. "Did you ever see it? It's really quite good, and it has a very witty narrator. My favorite line, I like to look for things no one else catches. I hate the way drivers never look at the road in old American movies. It's quite true you know."

In response, Jemma quoted, "Amélie still seeks solitude. She amuses herself with silly questions about the world below, such as 'How many people are having an orgasm right now'?"

Her boldness startled her, and she stared at her feet. Well, actually, his bare feet, which were nicely shaped (as ugly feet were a definite turnoff for Jemma) and sufficiently sized to promote the idea that she'd be quite happy with all of Team Jemma's personal equipment.

"None. Let's put the food in the fridge," Phil stated. "I believe we should try to correct that sad statistic?"

* * *

He sat down on the couch and placed the cocktail ottoman beneath his feet. Jemma tried to sit next to him, but he positioned her so that she was sitting between his legs.

"Lean back, make yourself comfortable," he requested as he reached for the remote. "First, I don't plan on going all the way with you tonight, but are we safe?"

"I took it," she promised as she had decided to take the pre-pill before she left her apartment JUST in case. And the post-pill was in her pocketbook, just in case.

"Good. Seriously, relax, please. We're cuddling which is nice," he explained. Gently, with experienced hands, he arranged her so they were quite close and she could feel his breath on her neck. "Let's watch the movie, shall we?"

**Ph** il laughed at the right parts, which made Jemma happy as _Amélie_ was one of her favorite movies.

"She's a lot like you, isn't she?" he whispered in her ear midway through the movie. "Got turned off by a few bad experiences, so she just gave up on love. Fortunately, there were people that cared for her, that were able to convince her to take a chance. And she was very happy that she did."

She was about to answer, but Phil kissed her neck. A slow, deliberate kiss and she melted. He continued to kiss her and his hands were a strange mix of possessiveness and gentleness as he stroked her. Definitely different than how Garrett had touched her, but still both ways were lovely and exciting and quite, quite successful at getting her completely aroused.

* * *

"Phil?" she whispered as his hand slipped beneath her shirt. It was hard to think, as his wandering hands caused her such delightful tingles. "What should I be doing?"

"Relaxing," he whispered between kisses. "Enjoying."

"No, for you? What should I do for you?" she asked.

"Relaxing. Enjoying," Phil repeated. "Letting me if you're scared or nervous. If I should stop?"

"Oh no," she murmured with true appreciation. "There will be no stopping, please."

His hands continued to wander, to stroke and explore and she finally decided to speak. "Phil… are you…." She stopped when Phil growled, "Oh, hell yes. But tonight's not about me. Tonight is about Amélie, who needs affection and reassurance."

His hands were resting on her belly, and they moved slightly lower, but stopped.

"May I?" he whispered.

"Please, or I may kill you," she admitted, which caused him to laugh. It also caused her nervousness to ease, as Phil's easy chuckle reassured her. Because Phil was Phil, calm, reassuring and extremely sexy Phil.

"How slowly can I do this?" he whispered as his hands rested on her waistband. "Buttons. Your pants has so many buttons, which is both really erotic and annoying. Right now, I'd like a zipper."

For the next ten minutes, he fumbled with the buttons (deliberately! DELIBERATELY) until she lost her composure and unbuttoned her jeans and placed his hand under her knickers.

"Patience," he murmured. "Anticipation. Don't want to rush."

The bastard didn't rush. No, he teased with his clever mouth and gentle hands, bringing her so close and then cooling down repeatedly. She was finally THISCLOSE, THISBLOODYCLOSE that she was grinding against him when he took his hands out of her knickers and asked, "Hungry? I can heat up the Thai if you want."

No jury would have convicted her if she had decided to kill him then and there. NOT A SINGLE ONE, as long as the jury was made up of single, lonely women.

* * *

"You're a tease," Jemma informed Phil Coulson much, much later. "In fact, you are a very bad, bad man."

"I know. Everyone is fooled into thinking John Garrett is the bad boy, so I can unleash my evil everywhere. No one suspects Phil J. Coulson," he admitted. "More Pad Thai?"

"I'm full," she admitted. "Plus I should go home, as it's rather late."

"Ten PM is not late," he retorted. "Let me walk you to your car however."

"I had a wonderful time," she assured him.

"You threatened me with DEATH, I certainly hope you had a wonderful time," he sniped. "Else I'll have to check to make sure you're not stalking me for your revenge."

"You were a tease," she repeated. She stood on her toes and kissed him. A long, proper kiss. When they finally separated, she pouted, "I wish you would have let me…"

She couldn't even voice the words, let alone imagine doing that to him, and an understanding Phil shook his head.

"Nope, we've got time before we rush into that. Enjoy the anticipation," he insisted. "The schedule is blown to smithereens, but next week, date night at that really nice restaurant."

"Yes, that is supposed to be our first kiss," she reminded him.

"You're right," he teased. "Remind me so we can get back on schedule."

"Tease," she repeated.

* * *

TO: Jemma

From: Felix

Dinner tomorrow night? I'll pick you up at your apartment at 5:30 PM for our first official solo date. I already have the ambulance squad on standby.

FXB

Woof, woof – Winston

* * *

To: Felix

From: Jemma

What should I wear? Are you taking the jeep or your bike? Where are we going?

The Ambulance comment was not nice, Sparky.

Jemma

* * *

To: Jemma

From: Felix

Jeep. I don't feel comfortable riding with you on my bike yet. Mongolian. New place and the reviews are all five stars. So, jeans are fine. Winston will be wearing the usual.

Felix,

Not Sparky

* * *

To: Felix

From: Jemma

Don't you trust me to ride you?

Jemma

* * *

To: Jemma

From: Felix

Please tell me that was a typo.

But the answer to that question and the one you should have typed. NO. I MOST ASSUREDLY DO NOT.

FXB

* * *

TO: Felix

From: Jemma

So, I guess we won't be cuddling after dinner?

Jemma, Pouting

* * *

Felix Blake's phone rang at three that morning.

" ** _Shot through the heart. And you're to blame. Darling, you give love a bad name_**." It was his ringtone for Nikki, and he groaned. However, he did pick it up and he couldn't understand her as she was hysterically crying. Not a good sign, he knew.

"What?" he asked. "I can't understand you, Nikki. What happened? Why are you crying?"

He listened and then he damned himself for being a complete ass. "I'll be ready in twenty minutes. I've got my emergency bags backed, along with a couple suits ready to go. If we leave by four, we can be there by nine. Can you drive over here so we can pick up the thruway on exit 3 and miss the construction? Ok?"

More sobbing.

"Nikki, you don't need to thank me. I really liked your father, so yes, I'll be a pall bearer. Yes, I'll help you make arrangements. I need to bring Winston, so your family will have to deal with the fact that the DOG is coming."

* * *

TO: Victoria Hand

From: Felix X. Blake

My apologies for the late notice. I received notification early this morning of the death of a friend. I need to take leave so I can make the arrangement. I'll be available via cell and will check into regularly with my assistance, Mary Sue Pootz. I need five days.

Felix X. Blake

* * *

TO: Felix

From: Victoria

Good thing I like you, Blake. You've been burning up leave these past few months like you had several thousand hours of accrued time. Oh, I see that you do.

Take as much time as you need and not a moment more. I need your eagle eyes back in the booth.

Vic

* * *

TO: Phil, John, Jemma

CC: Mary Sue Pootz

From: Felix

I got called out of town. Should be back by Saturday. Took Winston. Leave message with Mary Sue if it's urgent. Explain on Saturday.

F

* * *

To: Jemma's Harem (Distribution List)

From: Mistress Jemma

Any ideas what happened?

MJ

* * *

To: Jemma, John

From: Phil

Can you take our work emails off that distribution list? Please?

On a serious note, no idea. I've left messages with Skye, and Felix promises to explain when he gets back.

* * *

Four fricking days of hell. Absolute hell, as Nikki's father had been 1st generation Italian immigrant, which meant hysterics, and traditions and… there was an issue with WINSTON being in the church when Felix was being a pall bearer, and God, Nikki's family who blamed him for their breakup and… Nikki was completely bereaved and leaning on him, and God, she had loved her dad… and… there were no sexual shenanigans occurring (Thank God), but the two of them talked like in the old days, back when their relationship had been the focal point of his life.

And his internal Robbie the Robot was screaming, DANGER FELIX BLAKE, DANGER.

He was tempted to get out of his Jeep and kiss the ground when he finally got back to his parking garage.

"You ok to drive home, Nik?" He asked, after he turned off the Jeep. Felix truly hoped so as he was exhausted and needed to crash in his own bed for the next day or so. God, Nikki's family was exhausting at the best of times, but a funeral! Even worse.

She nodded.

"Thank you, Felix. I couldn't have gotten through this without you," she quietly admitted. "Thank you. I wasn't sure if you'd help me after my last stunt."

"Nik, just because we're no longer engaged, doesn't mean you're out of my life. I liked your father very much, so yes, I'd help you."

He got out of the jeep, stretched and then opened his trunk, so he could carry her luggage to her car. She popped her trunk and he placed them inside the car before he closed the lid with a thud. That done, an awkwardness descended between them, and it was Nikki who finally broke the silence, "Thank you, Felix."

Unexpectedly, she hugged him tightly and he returned the embrace as he knew that she needed the physical comfort. The hug was a quick embrace, thank God, but then she kissed him. On his lips and then she pulled away as she realized that she had overstepped their tentative new relationship.

"Thank you, Felix. I hope your new girlfriend knows what a great guy you are," she whispered. "A real knight in shining armor."

"I usually don't wear my armor when I'm with her. I find it uncomfortable. Goodbye, Nikki. Call me if you need me."

"Thanks," she quietly stated.

"Let's touch base on Monday. Lunch? There's a new Mongolian place that's supposedly pretty good?" he offered.

She nodded.

* * *

Jemma Simmons was in the parking lot when she saw Felix's Jeep pull into his parking space. She decided to wait, so she could give him a proper homecoming, when she realized that NICOLLETE was in the Jeep with Felix. There was luggage, sufficient for several days' romantic getaway, a hug and a kiss. They looked particularly close and it broke Jemma's heart because…they looked really close, like they just had sex, and then Felix offered to take Nikki to lunch. To the same restaurant that he had offered to take her on their first solo date.

Felix Blake was another Avery, she realized. Two timing her while…. She wouldn't cry. She would NOT cry… but her inner Amazonian took over her body as she stormed over to Felix, who had just picked up his luggage. Winston gave her a friendly tail wag but she ignored him. Jemma Simmons was not jealous of her boys' relationship with each other, but Felix's volatile relationship with his ex was a completely different story.

Felix who went to his EX for SEX.

And who had apparently had an itch that needed to be scratched so badly that he had left town at four in the morning!

"You fucking bastard," she spat. Winston stopped his tail wag in midswing as he noticed that something was seriously amiss.

"What?" he said. "Did I do something? You have to tell me what I did. You got my message that I had to go out of town and cancel our date? Right? I sent flowers, did you get them? I thought you liked orchids?"

His confusion just added gasoline to the fire and Simmons combusted.

"You fucking bastard, I fucking trusted you, I even was starting to really care for you," she growled as she slapped him. Hard. "I put up with your craziness because I thought you were a nice guy, but you're fucking scum. Was it because I wouldn't put out? I don't care because I fucking hate you. Go to fucking hell, asshole. Or better yet, you and Nikki go to hell."

And she stormed off while an unraveling Felix Blake stood in shocked bewilderment.

"Fuck," he rambled. "I just completed three Flakey Blakey cards. I need to buy her the car. I have to buy the car and … and… then she'll tell me what I did… because… the car will calm her down… because it will… be new… and shiny… and it won't be a two thousand three Nissan… with bad tires… and she'll tell me what I did… because it's… a big fucking… apology gift… and… She'll…. Tell me… what I have to do to make it better… a bracelet might work…. Maybe… a necklace… something… nice… and … What just happened here? What do I buy for her to make it right?"


	43. Keys and Fire Extinguishers

It took several minutes, but Felix Blake managed to pull himself together. He took a long, calming breath and looked at Winston, his faithful companion. "Any idea what I did to fuck up that badly?" he asked, not anticipating a response but hoping for some sort of advice. Really, any help would be appreciated.

The dog, naturally, took his side. _No, no, not at all. I love you and you never ever fuck up, unless I count how you sometimes forget to buy me a bone, but I'd never get angry at you, Dad. You're my bestest friend. I love you! LOVE YOU!_

"Probably need a big 'Forgive me, I'm a complete asshole gift?' Winston, do you agree?" Blake asked. Winston woofed an agreement so a plan had been made and approved. "We'll start small, then if necessary, after I find out what I did, I'll work up to the car. I mean, I had been with Nikki for three years before I bought her a car, and that was because her credit was shit."

Winston looked up at him with big soulful eyes _. Yupper. Better be glittery, too. And don't forget to buy me a really big bone for my help. Plus a squeaky toy, a loud squeaky toy so I can be annoyingly cute._

"Yup, looks like I need to go to Tiffany's. Get in the jeep, we might make it before it closes," Blake decided.

Naturally, he got to Tiffany's just before the store closed. With Winston, Service Dog, and the fact that he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, (and looking a bit frantic) they refused to let him into the store. He knocked on the window, caught the attention of the security guard that refused him entrance and then displayed his Centurion American Express card.

Thanks to an eccentric great uncle who had decided to piss off every relative that had been hungering for his death by willing everything he owned to That Child of THAT Woman who had Run Off with THAT Man, Felix Blake had enough money to live comfortably. He was frugal, (Cheap), but splurged when necessary. Mainly on his two friends, his only two friends in the entire world plus a big dog that knew that he was human.

And any girlfriend that was justifiably pissed.

Money was money, it meant nothing to him. He had lived without it for most of his life, it would probably would disappear again.

His pragmatic attitude was helped by the realization that Felix was really hot in the stock market due to his pattern fixation.

"HARRY WINSTON WILL GET MY BUSINESS," he threatened, and then like magic, the doors opened and the store manager ran over to offer him anything he wanted.

"I need a necklace, nothing too ostentatious, but classy." He named a figure that he was willing to spend, then decided to double it, even while the sane mental Blake was saying, " _I really don't think this is gonna work, Blake. She's not Nikki. Does she even wear jewelry?_ "

The clerk took out a dozen or so necklaces and he had no fucking clue which one to choose as they were bright and glittery and none of them said JEMMA. Not that he had any idea of her taste, as she ran toward cardigans, after all. But since none of the necklaces yelled NIKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKI, he figured he was headed in the right direction.

"Sir? Are you alright? You seem… really upset?" The clerk kindly asked as he just stared at each necklace and couldn't make a decision.

"I'm dating a very nice woman, who is far smarter than I am. She is a biochemist. I did something to upset her very badly and I don't know what I did, as she's that angry. I… I…. don't know what to do," he admitted. "I don't know which one to pick, but I want it to be the right one."

He needed Phil Coulson here, to hold his hand, to help him make the right decision, but he also couldn't ask Phil for his advice, because he had to cease being completely dependent on Phil.

"You like her a lot, I can tell," the clerk decided. "Take my advice, pick this one."

It was platinum, it was sparkly but… it was a key. A key?

"It's a key pendant," he stated. "I don't understand why I should select this instead of the butterfly."

"A key is a very romantic pendant. If she wears it, she's wearing the key to your heart around her neck. It's very symbolic," the clerk stated. "Most woman like romance, especially the ones that claim that they don't."

"I think she wants to rip my heart out and eat it raw," he softly admitted. "I fear she may use that to repeatedly stab me."

"I rather doubt that," the clerk said. "You present that to her, and all will be forgiven."

Well, if not forgiven, perhaps an explanation would be forthcoming.

"Wrap it up, I'll take it," he decided.

* * *

To: John, Phil

From: Felix

Back in town. I didn't tell you where I was going because Nick, Nikki's father died. She asked for my help in making arrangements because she was completely devastated as Nick had been ill, but it was still a shock and a surprise he passed.

I didn't tell you where I was going because I knew you guys wouldn't approve. I didn't want to deal with your harassment, (well-meaning as it would be) as nothing you'd say would stop me from going. Nick was always good to me, and I wanted… no… needed to be there.

What's up with Simmons? I saw her and she didn't seem her usual happy self.

Felix

* * *

To: Felix

Please tell me what you and Nikki didn't console each other with frickle frackle. I know how close you were to Nick.

Phil

* * *

To: Phil, John

NO. WE DID NOT, ASSHOLE. HER FATHER DIED AND THERE WAS NO FUCKING INVOLVED. CLOTHES WERE KEPT ON AND WE WERE IN SEPARATE HOTEL ROOMS.

* * *

Simmons didn't realize **_why_** he had been out of town with Nikki, (Because after all nobody had known except for Vic as he hadn't wanted to deal with John's shit) just that he had been away. Simmons had immediately (And with good reason, apparently, as Phil had come to the same conclusion) decided that he had slept with Nikki. She had probably witness Nikki hugging him and the kiss.

Oh yeah, a small pendant from Tiffany's wasn't gonna fix this fuck up.

"Hi – here's the key to my itty bitty heart."

**_I fucking trusted you, I even was starting to really care for you._ **

She'd open the box, and use the pendant to carve out his eyes.

Therefore he needed to face his completely self-inflicted disaster head on. It was still early, so she might be at her apartment.

And then once she stopped screaming at him, (Completely justified), he'd explain why he went to the funeral and pray to God that she'd understand. Nikki had been falling apart, her mother was in no condition to handle the funeral arrangements, and Felix had considered Nick a friend. Even after his crazy relationship with Nikki had imploded, her father had assured him that he still thought of Felix as the son he never had. In Felix's twisted psyche, Nick had been the (SOBER) father Felix never had, so it had been an even exchange.

When he went to Jemma's apartment, she didn't answer the door. No surprise, but Winston loudly whined and scratched the door.

"What's the problem?" Felix asked.

Winston scratched the door again, and barked.

"Quiet," Felix requested and Winston settled down. God help him if one of Simmons' neighbors saw him, but he leaned against the door and tried to listen. Not like he had bionic ears, but still he managed to hear the sound of furniture being overturned.

He took out his knife and jimmied the lock. Quietly, and then he pulled out his gun.

* * *

Jemma Simmons returned back to her thankfully empty apartment (as the annoyingly happy lovebirds Trip and Fitz had decided to go on holiday together). So she permitted herself to have a proper sulk and sob, and wondered why she was so bloody angry. Seriously, she was almost twenty six years old, she could have handled it in a better manner. Perhaps a snarky comment? No, instead she had slapped him, a very satisfying slap and then had told him off.

Leaving Blake staring at her in utter heartbreaking confusion.

She felt feverish and ill, thirsty also. To her complete lack of surprise, she found that Fitz hadn't bothered to refill the water jug in the fridge. No matter how many times she asked him to PLEASE refill the jug, he couldn't be bothered.

"Lazy bugger," she protested as she threw the glass jug against the wall. It made a very satisfying crash and she decided to let Fitz clean it up. That done she went through her small flat and picked up every damn thing that Fitz had left out. She dropped it in the middle of his bed, uncaring of the fact that she had spilled his aftershave. If he hadn't screw the cap on tight, it wasn't her fault.

Her rage continued to grow and grow until she was face to face to with a rather concerned Felix Blake.

"What's the problem? Nikki isn't doing housecalls? Or you couldn't get it up for her?" she spat. "How did you get into my apartment? Did John give you the key that I gave him? Because you're never ever gonna get a key, Blakie."

He exhaled slowly, which meant her caustic comments had stung.

"Jemma, are you feeling alright? Why don't you sit down in the kitchen and we can talk?" he asked. "I'll pick up one of the chairs and you can sit down. Winston, stay where you are. You don't want glass in your paws."

He picked up a chair that she had overturned, brushed it off and then set it upright.

"Sit down, Jemma. Where's your broom? I'll sweep up," he offered. "Then I'll make tea. Jemma, I swear to you that I didn't sleep with Nikki."

She told him where the broom was. Bastard then called SHIELD, claimed that she was acting odd, a rageful paranoia was how he described her, demanded that the place be quarantined as she exhibited Stage 2 of Chitauri Virus CH-AX79A. And yes, he swept up the broken glass, which matched her heart that had been shattered by Felix Blake. He wasn't focused on her, not at all. Like normal.

"Phil, I'm probably infected also now. Please request a vet because Winston is here and we're not sure how this strain affects canines."

Jemma Simmons swung her trusty fire extinguisher with all her might, right at Felix Blake's head.


	44. And So it Goes

It was only the devil's own luck that Blake saw the incoming warhead. He managed to grab it in mid-swing even while he continued his off-color color commentary to a disbelieving audience.

"Are you sure she's infected? I just saw her four hours ago?" Phil asked. "She was fine, Felix!"

Garrett added, "She was in a good mood and she didn't try to hit us with a fire extinguisher. So are you sure she's infected? That you didn't piss her off instead?"

"Fuck you, Garrett. Yes, I'm pretty sure she's infected. Her sclera are red, she got purple bruising under her eyes, blood from her nose and oh did I mention? Sweet little Jemma Simmons has gone bat shit crazy and she's trying to kill me with a fucking fire extinguisher FOR NO GODDAMN REASON. Phil, I've got to drop the phone and subdue her. I'm sorry, Simmons. Trust me when I say that this hurts me far more than you."

He was trained in countless different ways to disable a person, but this was Jemma Simmons. And each way he knew how to disable her, would require him to physically hurt her. Even though she was bat shit crazy, he really didn't want to physically hurt her. He was such a flake that he couldn't help wounding her emotionally, but it wasn't because he wanted to.

"Naturally, since it's me, you are infected with the Rage Virus. I'm sure if Garrett was here, you'd be infected with the Kissing Virus, and if was Phil, well, you'd have the Frickle Frackle virus. But no, it's me, so I get Rage Monster Simmons."

He dropped his phone and the small signature Tiffany Blue Box, tied with a neat white satin ribbon, on the floor while he and Jemma scrapped.

Winston, being utterly confused by Jemma's bad behavior, picked up Felix's cell phone and placed it on the table. Then he picked up with box via the white satin ribbon and placed it also on the table. That done, he looked at the situation (His Pet was struggling not to harm the woman, but the woman had no such qualms) and decided to intervene. He went for her feet, not to bite them, but to cause her to trip and fall. It worked, though she fell into his Pet's arms. His Pet wrapped his arms tightly around her to keep her from escaping.

"Thanks, Winston," Felix dryly stated even while a tearful Simmons sobbed obscenities at him. "To think I actually kissed that potty mouth. Come on, let's get you into bed."

"You don't want me," she wept on his shoulder. "You only want Nikki."

"Great, Rage Monster Simmons has a melancholy streak," he protested to the uncaring world. "Simmons, you don't have a minibar stashed somewhere in your bedroom do you? Do I need to lock it up?"

"I want you to be my one of my ducklings," she tearfully protested. "I'd take such good care of you. I'd keep your feathers clean and fluffed."

"I'm sure you would, Jemma. Now, can we skip the duck pond and get you into bed?" He asked, even while he wondered what the hell she was talking about. She was literally radiating heat, which meant that she was delirious from fever, so… maybe she hadn't meant to hit him with a fire extinguisher (Or maybe she was using the fever as a convenient excuse).

"I'd make a cozy little nest for you and the other ducklings," she assured him. "Fill it with straw and make sure my little ducklings would be safe from predators, like Nikki. I'd keep your drinking water clean and full. I'd put in a kiddie pool in so my little ducklings could play and splash together."

Yeah, because what he REALLY wanted to do was splash naked in a kiddie pool with John and Phil. It was his top item on his Bucket List.

Great, his overclocked mind had to go there.

When he died, the last thing he'd see is the three of them splashing in a kiddie pool, NAKED, because the image was SEARED…. SEARED on his retinas.

"Simmons, you're burning up, I think you have a temperature," he decided. "Let's put you to bed, and I'll find some Tylenol. Do you have a thermometer?"

* * *

He managed to drag Simmons to her bedroom (She had thankfully stopped sobbing but she still discussed the kiddie duck pond and how safe and secure her Dysfunctional Duckling, Blake the Drake, would be with her as Duck Mistress Jemma.). It had taken a few mistakes when he opened the dresser drawers to locate night clothes. (He did discover her secret stash of McVities chocolate digestives and ginger biscuits but he had nearly slammed the drawer shut when he discovered that next to her stash of carbohydrates there was a dog eared, broken binding book with multiple multi-colored fluorescent sticky notes, entitled **_The Bad Girl's Guide to Having MIND BLOWING Sex with an Older Man (Just Because They're Over Fifty Doesn't Mean that They Can't Break the Speed Limit)_**. A quick glance proved what he suspected, Jemma had been given the book by Skye. And really, he didn't want to know what page the sticky note entitled, FELIX, was on. And he was sure he hadn't counted the numbers of stickies with his name on it though his mind yelled, "FOURTEEN!")

"The DeCom team is coming. Let's get you changed before they show up," he suggested, keeping his 'I'm a member of SHIELD, nothing bothers me' voice intact. "I'll be back and you'll be changed."

He returned with Tylenol, bottled water, thermometer and various other medicinal items in hands. He found Simmons sitting on the side of the bed, struggling to remove her clothes. A glance at his watch and the realization that the DeCom team would be there in the next five minutes made him offer his assistance.

Quickly, he removed her cardigan and button down shirt (and No, he didn't look at the lacey item she was wearing), but when he grabbed her long night shirt, she shook her head as she fumbled with her bra.

"I can't sleep in this. Have you ever slept in one? Bloody uncomfortable," she stated.

"No, I can safely say I never wore one to bed." He said that with a perfectly straight face, which was really HARD.

"Help," she whined, so he unsnapped it, removed it and NO, HE DIDN'T SNEAK A PEEK. HE DID NOT. DID NOT. DID NOT. HE WAS NOT GARRETT. NOT AT ALL. HE HAD PRINCIPLES AND GARRETT WAS SUCH A LOW LIFE DOG THAT WINSTON REFUSED TO ADMIT THAT THEY WERE OF THE SAME GENUS.

He finished changing her and then popped the thermometer into her mouth. That mission accomplished without any obscenities or hateful rants, he took her dirty clothes, threw them into the hamper and asked Winston where his phone was.

Winston trotted off to the kitchen, and Blake followed. His phone and a bedraggled box from Tiffany's were sitting on the table. He picked up the box, debated and then stuffed it in his jacket pocket. He had just spontaneously decided (regretfully) for his mental health that once this latest escapade was over, he'd have a painful and long overdue conversation with Simmons. For his mental and physical health, he'd recuse himself and get off the crazy train known as 'Dating Simmons'.

Plus, Winston was still unharmed and he needed to protect him. At all costs.

In the three months he had known Simmons, she had fainted TWICE, he had dislocated his hip, been electrocuted and died, had come back, had witnessed his two closest friends maimed and otherwise incapacitated by the Scientific Siren known as Simmons, and even now he was now quarantined with the Simmons Rage Monster who exhibited a previously unknown fetish involving ducks and three old men splashing in a kiddie pool, buck ass naked. It was no wonder that his formerly salt and pepper hair was now WHITE, which made him look years older than the older Garrett (Grrr) and Phil. (Double Grrr).

His mind was already tipping into insanity as he was terrified that SKYE had a crush on him. Phil's daughter in all but legal document… couldn't be crushing on him.

Therefore, he wouldn't give Simmons the 'Forgive Me Gift'.

"Maybe I can sell it on Ebay," he decided, as he had too much pride to return it back to Tiffany's. "Simmons would have laughed. Key to my heart and all that bullshit. That saleswoman could sell sand to the Saudis in the middle of a sandstorm."

Understanding that he was stationed at Simmons' apartment for the long haul, he took off his jacket and hung it in the closet. In his haste to return back to the ailing Simmons, he failed to realize that the Tiffany box escaped from his pocket and landed on the floor, unnoticed. He picked up his phone, reviewed Simmons' temperature (104.3F) and forced her to take Tylenol and drink the bottle of water. That done, he documented and time stamped her temperature in his phone, along with notating what drugs he had given her. Jemma sniffled, and she roughly wiped her eyes.

You looked up MISERY in the dictionary (Or Googled it, if you were Skye because her first set of GED scores proved that she had never saw a dictionary that she had ever actually opened), you'd see a thousand pictures of Jemma Simmons at the very moment. She looked completely wrecked and she was sniffling. Still.

"You're just like my ex," she whispered. "You date me and sleep with anything that moves."

"I didn't sleep with Nikki," he stated. "Her father died. She fell apart and I needed to make the funeral arrangements as neither her nor her mother could. I owed him that much."

He was saved from further explaining himself. (Though would Simmons care to hear his explanations? That Nick had treated him like a son? Rather than a class A fuck up? Nick had accepted his preNew York OCDness with approval, as it meant that he'd take good care of Nikki. He rather doubted it as at the moment Simmons seemed more in the Attack First, Ask Later mode.) His phone rang.

"Blake," he growled.

"Coulson. DeCom is outside the apartment. They're in the process of shutting down the street," Phil explained. "Garrett and I have been tested and between that and Simmon's current symptoms, we're clear of infection."

"We brought Winston's dog food and his squeaky toy," Garrett added. "Don't worry we brought you the necessities. Charger for your phone and your computer as Vic is annoyed that you're taking more time from work. I fear you'll come back to work and see your office emblazoned with SLACKER BOY everywhere."

"Oh fuck," he cursed because Victoria Hand would do that. With a great deal of Glee.

"Hand understands, ignore him. He's being an ass," Phil snapped. "How are you three? Are you displaying any symptoms?"

"I haven't had any desire to take a fire extinguisher and hit Garrett with it. Well, least not any more than normal urge," Felix dryly admitted. "I don't have a fever and I'm not talking about baby ducks."

"Excuse me, do you say fucks or ducks?" Garrett asked. "Because my phone just cut out just then. I really hope that it wasn't ducks, as I know you're not into bestiality."

"Baby ducks, not making babies," Felix snapped. "Ducklings. Phil? This screams Coulson to me."

"Do ducks scream? I thought they just quacked, QUACK," added a not very helpful Garrett. "DeCom wants us to move. We'll call back as soon as we can."

The phone line went dead even as Felix protested.

Ducklings? DUCKLINGS!?

* * *

While Blake waited for DeCom to take over the scene, he checked Jemma's temperature again. She seemed warmer, so as his overclocked mind demanded that he do something, he went into her small bathroom and ran some lukewarm water onto a towel, wrung it out somewhat and then returned to her bedroom.

"Easy," he whispered as he blotted the damp cloth against her face.

"I don't feel well," she admitted.

"I'll take care of you," he promised. "Winston and I. DeCom is outside, so they're securing everything. Drink some more water."

She needed assistance to sit up so he supported her, and she gave him a weak smile. "Finally get a chance to cuddle."

Considering she had attempted to clock him with a fire extinguisher, he had no desire to cuddle. Never. Ever.

"Drink this," he reminded her. "Drink all of it."

She had just finished the second bottle of water when the DeCom agents swarmed in. They were dressed in the dread Zoot Suits… and the damn front door of the apartment had opened into an air lock entrance with assorted heavy duty filters. Damn it, they were stuck here for the duration. Not in the moderate comfort of SHEILD DeCom, but in her far too small apartment.

"Agent Blake," said the Head Zoot. "We've brought supplies for you and Dr. Simmons."

"How long will we be in here?" He asked, even as he rolled up a sleeve. Let the blood draws begin.

Two weeks, Head Zoot informed him.

* * *

It was a long two weeks for Felix Blake. Possibly due to the infusion of Jesus Juice or his… sparky personality, he didn't seroconvert which required further examination, more blood draws and a threatened lumbar puncture.

The discussion ended when he threatened to puncture the Head Zoot's lumbar.

His reputation for being a bastard certainly came in handy. Be assured that he only utilized his cantankerous personality for good. He had taken on the responsibility for taking care of most of her basic needs as the Zoots of Zooterville were too busy working on an antiserum. However, Felix got Jemma an extra nurse when she became really cranky and Rage Monster Simmons scored a bit too well on him.

He knew and accepted that her hate-filled tirade was the illness. He was the child of a highly functional alcoholic and nobody that knew his father would have ever believed that his dad was alkie. He just functioned too well, but at home, Felix had been his punching bag once Felix's mom had left. (And had promised to return, but she hadn't, hadn't, hadn't, as she had found another man just like her husband…). He was just tired of the verbal abuse, tired of being a punching bag, tired of being a real man and keeping his tongue in check.

Not that his father would believe he was a real man, as he had cleaned Jemma's apartment, as it was a mess. There was nothing else to keep him occupied as the latest Bosch book hadn't come out yet. (He was partial to Harry Bosch because he was an outsider much like Felix was) He had cleaned out the scientific experiments in the fridge (Mourning briefly the happy little green thing that had cheerfully waved at him before he had bleached it to death.), did her laundry (and her roomie which meant that yes, he ironed every single one of Fitz's plaid shirts. The Scot carried his plaid fetish to extremes, with plaid ties and plaid boxers and plaid bedsheets.)

One night her fever had spiked to a new high, and he had nearly slept through Jemma's anguished cries for help. Fortunately, Winston had been on duty as he had decided that Felix needed the night off. The dog had jumped into his lap and licked his face to wake him. Felix had managed to stagger into her bedroom, called for help and get her changed and presentable before the Zooters arrived.

Then he quietly collapsed in the corner of her bedroom and napped.

* * *

It was day fourteen of his confinement at Jemma Simmons' apartment (Based on his stubble as the two bastards Phil and John hadn't sent him a razor.) when Jemma smiled at him.

"Thank you for taking care of me," she whispered. "Have I been a very bad patient?"

"Not at all, you've done everything the doctors told you to do," he assured her. He left out some of her comments that she had made to him, as well… what could be done. He felt uncomfortable, as she had a weird look in her eyes. Maybe she was feverish, so he brushed her forehead with the back of his hand.

"I don't think you have a temperature," he murmured. "I think it broke last night. Finally. However it is time for your medication."

She stuck her tongue out at him, and he shook his head. He poured the medication into a cup and then handed it over to her. "Time to open up. Here comes the helicarrier."

She stuck her tongue out at him and he shook his head. "Again with the tongue."

* * *

The last two weeks were a bit of a feverish haze for Jemma Simmons, but the two constants had been Winston and Felix. Winston had slept on the bed with her while Felix had nursed her (including several sponge baths) with a gentleness that shouldn't really have surprised her as much as it did. He'd make a truly wonderful father, she realized.

To a little dark haired girl (because really, she was surrounded by boys, couldn't she hope to even the odds?) with his light eyes. Their daughter would easily wiggle her way underneath his emotional barriers and she'd be understanding of their closeness. She also have her two uncles in complete thrall.

Really, she could just see them. Felix's far too serious daughter, John's rabble rousing son and Phil's son who was the one that kept them all behaving.

"Thank you for taking care of me," she whispered. "Have I been a very bad patient?"

"Not at all, you've done everything the doctors told you to do," he assured her which was a non-answer that she'd have to explore when she was stronger. He brushed her forehead with the back of his hand.

"I don't think you have a temperature," he murmured. "I think it broke last night. Finally. However, it is time for your medication."

She stuck her tongue out at him, and he shook his head. He poured the medication into a cup and then handed it over to her. "Time to open up. Here comes the helicarrier."

She stuck her tongue out at him and he shook his head. "Again with the tongue."

He tucked her into bed and she pouted when he turned to leave.

"No goodnight kiss?" She teased.

"No, don't want to spread contagions," he reminded her.

"When I'm feeling better, I'll want one. Plus a cuddle," she decided to up the ante. He emotionally and physically withdrew at that comment. "Uh oh. What's the problem?"

"Nothing," he lied. Badly.

"Felix," she prompted.

"You need to sleep," he stated. Another non answer.

"I won't sleep a wink until you explain yourself," she insisted. "So, tell me."

"I don't wish to do this now," he stated. He looked quite uneasy but she motioned for him to continue.

"I want you to know that it's all me, not you," he began, and Simmons couldn't prevent herself from groaning. "I think you're wonderful, I do. I hope we can still be friends, but I can't be part of this Dating Simmons Reality Show anymore. For my mental and physical health, I can't."

She felt her fantasy child being ripped from her arms. A child she hadn't known that she had wanted with Felix until a few short minutes ago. It was… odd… how much it hurt.

"The last three months has been great getting to know you, but I have to be honest. It's been a real roller coaster," he explained. "It's not good for me and my mental health. I am sorry. I am. Garrett or Coulson, either one will be very lucky to end up with you. Maybe I can be the crazy uncle?"

Really, she couldn't blame him. Not at all. She had witnessed firsthand how he floundered, but how he still persevered. Being an adult was hard, as she wanted nothing more than to kiss him into submission, but really… she couldn't give him what he needed to be healthy. Stability.

Knowing Blake, he had thought and pondered about this issue for quite some time.

Therefore it was time to let go of her duckling. To let him swim and splash and possibly find a new duckling of his own. (Though not Skye. Please, not Skye. If Felix couldn't handle her, Skye would have him huddling in a corner).

"Just promise me, don't go back to Nikki for sex again," she requested. "Please. If you want sex, go to Phil or John, please."

He flinched.

"I won't be angry if it's them. They care for you and want the best for you. She's not good for you, Felix. She's not. Maybe the old Felix was right for her, but not the nuFelix."

His phone rang them and he answered, "Blake…. Lab results are good then? I can leave? Great, I want to sleep in my own bed."

* * *

They shook hands, like adults, when he left. No hugs, no kisses, nothing. Just a sincere wish for the best. Winston gave her a sad look, and she kneeled down his level.

"You take good care of Felix," she ordered. "Make sure he goes to bed and gets some rest."

Winston nodded his understanding adding a bit of wounded hauteur, " ** _Seriously, Simmons, it's my job to keep an eye on him_**."

"I know and you do a wonderful job," she assured the Giant Schnauzer. "Now get him home."

Felix and Winston then left even while Fitz, Skye and Trip ran into the apartment. They hugged her, exclaimed their concern and were just a royal nuisance. They were her friends and her family and she wouldn't swap them for the world.

"I need a proper washup," she finally protested as Skye hugged her again. "Felix did his best, but I want a shower as I feel … disgusting."

"So Agent Blake gave you a sponge bath?" Trip asked.

"Looks like he cleaned up the apartment also," Fitz stated in true approval.

"He even ironed your shirts," she snipped.

"Hire him!" Fitz insisted while everyone laughed.

"I need a shower," she insisted.

* * *

Phil and John were there to bring him home. At least someone cared that he had been stuck into Simmons Sick House because all of Jemma's friends had run right past him, didn't even stop to ask how he was doing, instead they just worried about Jemma. Well, they were Jemma's friends, never his, and they'd never be anymore to him. He sat in the backseat and closed his eyes, grateful that John wasn't running his mouth.

"Got your keys?" Phil asked.

"Yes," he mumbled as he patted his pockets. "In my jacket pocket."

He patted his right pocket, felt the keys and then decided to check his left pocket. There was nothing in it. No box from Tiffany's with a heartfelt note begging for forgiveness. Nothing. Oh fuck, was his immediate panicked response. Then his mind began offering helpful suggestions. He had cleaned the apartment at least twice, and he hadn't seen the box. Maybe one of the Zoot group had stolen it.

Yes, he'd prefer theft as opposed to leaving it behind where Jemma might find it.

* * *

She took a long, leisurely shower and scrubbed herself until she felt clean. That done, she dried her hair, changed into clean clothes and then returned to meet her gang who was waiting for her in the living room. To her surprise, the three of them were sitting around the coffee table, and there was a small blue box on the table.

"For me? How nice," she exclaimed as she picked up the box.

"It's actually not from us. It's from Agent Blake," Skye explained.

"Oh," she quietly stated. For a moment, she was tempted to toss the box but that would demand a painful explanation.

"It's from Tiffany's," Skye exclaimed. "Open it. I'm surprised he didn't give this to you. I guess he came in, realized you were ill and he never gave this to you. I found it in the hallway closet when I hung up my jacket."

"I still don't even know how he ended up here," Simmons admitted. "The last two weeks are a blur."

"Maybe it's a ring?" Trip suggested.

"Wrong size box," the analytical Fitz protested. He ignored Skye's snort of disgust and Simmons' disapproving head shake.

"My man, I have failed at turning you into a romantic," Trip sighed in mock defeat.

"I probably should open it up when he's here," she protested.

Her team pounded on the table and chanted, "Open it! Open it! OPEN IT!"

She untied the bow carefully and then opened the box. There was a folded handwritten note and she opened it.

_Jemma;_

_Please read this. I know you're angry with me, but I swear I didn't have sex with Nikki. Her father died and she needed my support. Her father accepted me, treated me like his own and I had to help Nikki and her mom during this difficult time. I didn't tell anyone because I just didn't want to hear all the reasons why I shouldn't help her._

_I needed to; that's reason enough. She's part of the Old Blake, the man I once was. And I can't turn my back on her for that reason alone._

_I hope you forgive me and will wear this. I'm too pragmatic a soul to say that I'm giving you the key to my heart, but I've let you in farther than I have anyone in a very long time. Not that I had much choice as you seem to burrow past my defenses and just completely bowled me over._

_To quote the Learned Sage William Joel;_

_I spoke to you in cautious tones, you answered me with no pretense._  
And still I feel I said too much. My silence is my self-defense.  
But if my silence made you leave, then that would be my worst mistake.  
So I will share this room with you, and you can have this heart to break.  
So I would choose to be with you, that's if the choice were mine to make  
But you can make decisions too; and you can have this heart to break.

_FXB_

"I don't understand," Jemma admitted as she removed the key pendant and necklace from the box. "I don't understand at all."


	45. Welcome Back, Blake Part Trois

Phil and John showed at her apartment the next day. Being the proper sort, they brought dinner and flowers. They knocked and then John called, "Before you open the door, can you promise us that you don't have your fire extinguisher in your hand?"

"GARRETT," protested Coulson who was tired of being the straight man in the John Garrett Comedy Hour.

Jemma Simmons opened the door and mock scowled, "I don't understand your question."

"Blake regaled us with stories about how you tried to clock him with a fire extinguisher," Garrett explained. "You were really angry with him."

"What?" was her witty reply.

"Blake knows that the Jemma Rage Monster was because you were ill," Coulson assured her. He leaned and buzzed her on the cheek. John kissed her on the other and for a moment, she wished Blake was there. It was odd… not having Felix there, but it was the new normal, so she'd have to get comfortable with it. "Right? You were pretty angry with him from what I could hear."

"What?" she repeated. "Rage Monster?"

"You were a real hell cat," Garrett offered. "So… two weeks alone with Felix…he had to wait on you hand and foot because you were sick… **_and_**?"

John Garrett didn't leer and didn't make a suggestive wink.

"Seriously, I want to hear your side of what happened."

"He didn't tell you?" she asked.

"I heard some stuff, none of which makes sense to me, as he was completely Blakified," John admitted.

"He convinced me…." She began and then both Phil and John stared at each other in total confusion. "That it would be best for his mental health if he wasn't involved with this anymore. I'm afraid it's just you two. He says that he can't take the constant insanity. I can't blame him if I was Jemma Simmons, Rage Monster."

The two men looked at each other again, and then GARRETT… GARRETT handed the flowers to Coulson, and ordered him to find a vase. Then he brought her into the kitchen and sat next to her.

"Felix really likes you," John offered. "He really, really does. My suggestion is… just be friends."

"I don't want to be just friends with Felix," she protested.

"I know, you want us all to be your little ducklings, splashing in a kiddie pool. The very thought of the three us, absolutely naked, splashing in a kiddie pool just complete freaked him out."

"What?" she sputtered.

"I think you talked a lot while you were ill. You probably rambled about a lot of stuff, so between that and the fire extinguisher, you terrified him," Garrett explained. "The kiddie pool really freaked him out."

"It did," admitted Phil as he returned back to the living room. "He and I discussed it yesterday. Well, indirectly. He was wondering about your duck fetish. I informed him that you felt rather… protective towards us. That the three of us were so close, that we were like a badelynge of ducklings."

"Actually since Simmons wants to keep an eye on her ducklings, we'd be considered a brood of ducklings," Garrett explained. "You city boys wouldn't get the difference, but it's a matter of dependency on the Mama Duck."

"I actually want him to father one of my children," she admitted. Then in a perfectly serious tone, she added, "Preferably it will be done in a bed, rather than a kiddie pool. And I'm not really sure about the logistics of having three men in a bed with only one woman. I know I've mentioned it, but still… three men, one Jemma. Seriously, all those happy pert penises there, all wanting attention and affection. Who comes first?"

Phil Coulson groaned. Loudly. He hid his hand behind his face, not realizing that Jemma Simmons was smiling. John, on the other hand, was widely grinning at her.

"Merrier the more, triple fun that way, Twister on the floor. What do you say?" Garrett sang in a surprisingly decent baritone.

"Felix plays guitar, John sings lead, what exactly is your role in this trio?" Jemma asked Phil.

"Triangle." Phil stated quietly, with no twinkle in his eye.

"Drums," inserted Garrett. "You need to ask about his gig as a rock drummer during one of his investigations."

Phil shuddered and then he changed the subject. "You need to be his friend, first. Go out for dinner, no kissing… no craziness, no hospital visits."

"No snogging?" she protested.

"None," Garrett agreed.

"But…." She protested.

"Reestablish your friendship and then see how it progresses," Phil advised. "He's given John quite a few time outs."

Garrett's smile was quite tight as he glared at an assumed Phil. In response, Phil mouthed, "DRUMS" at Garrett.

"For example, that Italian place he likes," Garrett suggested. "He had made reservations on the night of the Bowling Ball Bloodbath. It's a little pricy, but the food is good, portions are huge…"

"Important for a growing boy like Garrett," inserted Phil.

"Fuck you, sunshine," Garrett retorted.

"After he took care of you for the last two weeks, no doubt battling severe claustrophobia in your apartment, you should take him out for a good meal as a thank you," Phil explained. "Especially since he cleaned your apartment. He even did the windows."

"I thought I was still photosensitive from the virus," she admitted. "It's very bright in here lately.

"No. It's because your windows are clean. Now, this comes to the really hard part of our mission. We keep the schedule the same. We're meeting…five times a week now," Garrett instructed. "Which means…"

"He'll get lonely," protested Simmons. She tried not to think of a lonely little duckling dejectedly paddling, ALONE, in a big bad pond full of predators (NIKKI) that would prey on her little despondent duckling, while his brother ducklings were horribly loud and splashed and had fun elsewhere.

"Yes. We have to be careful, let him know that he's welcome to join us, but don't force the issue. So, we exclude him but gently, with an open invitation for him to join us. When he does, we just accept it, and do not make a big deal about it."

She nodded.

"However, we will keep an eye on him," Phil assured her. "Just in case, he decides to be an utterly noble asshole."

He then placed an arm around Simmons and looked at Garrett, who then deliberately put his arm around Simmons also.

"Because we're a team," Phil explained.

* * *

On Monday morning, Felix Blake woke early and decided to return to his office before the crack of dawn. To his surprise, his assistant (she of the hopefully soon to be completed GED as in-between episodes of Simmons cursing him out during her illness and threatening him with bodily harm, he had kept riding Mary Sue on completing her assignments for her GED, and Good God, she could read but she couldn't write worth a damn!) had kept things moderately ship shape. No doubt to Coulson's intervention.

He opened his phone, realized anew that tonight was date night, and he changed the calendar organizer to Phil Coulson and requested removal from the calendar.

Really, it was for his own mental health because Simmons tied him up in knots.

He reviewed what he had missed during his latest leave and Winston, who instinctively knew that he needed comfort, placed his head in his lap. After a few hours of categorizing data, he realized that it was time for coffee so he walked out to discover…

A very bedraggled, heavily creased "Welcome Back, Blake" sign. It was significantly worse for wear considering it was now on its third viewing. There was also a noticeable decrease in the enthusiasm level for his repeated returns. No bagel stack this time, instead, there was a small blueberry crumb cake on that table. Points would be given to Agent Mary Sue as he preferred blueberries. However, all points were immediately invalidated when he realized that Jemma & Phil & John were there.

She was wearing a v-neck sweater that showed off a very familiar necklace. A key pendant that he had convinced himself had been stolen by the Zoot Suit People.

The three of them looked very cozy together and he nodded his head. He willed it not to hurt, but it fucking did, and the little singsong voice in his head said, "If you were only normal, you could be part of that. But no… Flakey Blakey can't be normal, can't take life's little curveballs. Needs stability, sanity and normalcy even though he's a fucking freak."

"Seem to be making a habit of this, Mary Sue," he snapped. "While I appreciate this, next time, let's skip this. Please."

Then he returned back to his office, to his beloved monitors, closed the door and realized too late, that Winston was on the wrong side of the door. He focused on his monitors, pulled up assorted screens to start analyzing data when he realized that there was a scratching on the door.

There was a knock and then the door opened. Winston galloped into the room and then proceeded to sit on his foot. His service dog glared at him in the most heartbreaking way possible and then pouted. POUTED.

"Here's your coffee," Mary Sue offered. "And a piece of cake. Blueberry, you like blueberries, right?"

"Seriously, I'm not Lazarus, rising from the dead. You don't need to keep throwing me a Welcome Back, Party. You seriously cannot be missing me that much that you rejoice when I return from my latest sabbatical."

Especially as Vic Hand had sent him a sternly worded email about his recent attendance issues and mentioned the dreaded SICK LEAVE MONITORING.

Agent Mary Sue Pootz, highly probably 0-8-4 (though Phil lied and denied it, but Felix had checked her blood work thoroughly as he was the resident Alien Hiding in Plain Sight as an Human expert and had noticed several gene sequences that were completely WRONG so he had deliberately corrupted her lab results on the servers because she was Jemma's friend and Phil's de facto adopted alien offspring and Garrett's snark soulmate and since he had gotten her outta her van and into a warm, safe bed at night, it really behooved him to ensure that the local Alien catchers didn't grab her and vivisect her as he'd be required to rescue Phil's Stray) so one sleepless night, he had pondered exactly when she would develop superhuman strength and stump on his ribcage or throw him into a wall when he pissed her off sufficiently, just looked at him with her sad, alien eyes.

Oh good God in hell, she couldn't have a crush on him, because Simmons and her vivacious humanity scared him shitless, that the very thought of an alien crushing on his ancient bones scared him into complete E.D. (And NOT EMERGENCY DEPARTMENT).

"It gets lonely in the land of the monitors," she admitted. "The other agents don't like being here, because they'd rather be in the field. They're sloppy and they don't explain stuff like you do."

Since when did he explain anything? He growled and mumbled, slapped computer equipment around and sometimes had to crawl on the floor to rewire everything but it was quicker than waiting for the Tech Department to get off their asses to visit the Land of the Monitors. Well, he did have a tendency to drone when he was plotting a data matrix.

"Agent Pierson was floored that I was able to trouble shoot the equipment issues he experienced," she beamed and he pondered what he should say.

"Get your GED and you'll be a Level 2 as soon as the ink is dry on the certificate. You're utterly wasted here," he offered.

"Is that an actual compliment from Agent Blake?" she asked, even as her inhuman eyes softened.

He retreated into himself, wondered why the hell anyone put up with him, and Winston decided that Daddy had been punished enough and pushed his head against Felix's hand. He also added soulful eyes that assured Felix that he always loved him best. (Even if you looked up AssHole in the dictionary and found a picture of Felix.)

"I just made a comment," he protested.

"A kind one," she teased which made him retreat further into himself. "I got an actual compliment from Agent Blake!"

"Mark it on your calendar," he snapped. "Hopefully you got it on video as nobody will believe you if you tell them. Not even Phil and he thinks the best of people."

That done, he opened one of the files and began to review it. After a long time, he realized that she was still in the room, that she was unable to comprehend the waves of "LEAVE ME ALONE" that were radiating off his body. Winston did, and he responded in his typical fashion, by doing everything but sit in Blake's lap.

"I was only joking," she explained. "I'm usually the fuckup in any given situation, so I appreciate any compliments."

He inhaled, slowly, then exhaled, as he needed to say something. Naturally, his Mental Tim the Therapist was having a cigar break and telling tall tales about being a Howling Commando at the time he needed him most.

"It's a shame that you're not working for Phil then," Felix finally stated. "He thinks very highly of you."

Tim the Mental Therapist hit him hard in the back of his head, with a shovel.

"AC knows nothing about how to make data sit up and beg to be turn into useful information. You **_do_** , that's why he told me that I should work really hard at this position."

"I've noticed your enthusiasm," he finally stated. "I thought it was due to the fear of Fury and your role of my social coordinator."

"That is an added motivation," she admitted.

"After I finally review what happened while I was away, perhaps, if you have time, I could show you how to set up the input parameters for a surveillance. You've managed to keep the office afloat during my repeated absences, so it seems that you can be trusted with more than keeping the paper tray full in the printer."

And Alien-Hacker Grrrl smiled even as Felix vowed to keep her secret safe. For Phil, For Jemma, For John.

* * *

Two weeks later - Lunch

"What is happening with Agent Blake?" Skye asked Jemma. "He's been an absolute Blake Bear lately, but there's moments when he struggles to act human. I mean, Human as in Phil Coulson human. Speaking of which where is Agent Blake Bear? I'm surprised he's not here as your two other guys are showing up."

"We're no longer dating," Jemma explained. "I still consider him a friend."

A friend who didn't answer her emails or her phone calls. However, she still wore his necklace, because he had given it to her.

_I'm too pragmatic a soul to say that I'm giving you the key to my heart, but I've let you in farther than I have anyone in a very long time._

"Is that why Nicolette from Accounting stops by the office so often? They've gone out to lunch a few times," Skye asked.

Jemma tried to smile, even though she imagined Nikki taking horrid advantage of Felix. (And while yes, it took Two to Tango, Nikki was Felix's Achilles Heel and Tendon.)

_She's part of the Old Blake, the man I once was. And I can't turn my back on her for that reason alone._

"Her father died recently," offered Phil, as he arrived. He buzzed Jemma on the cheek and then sat down between the two women. "Her father and Felix were close."

John Garrett then arrived and took over the conversation. "Did you hear, Mrs. Roberts, Queen of the Cafeteria is retiring. They're having a shindig Saturday night. What do you say, Simmons? Go with us, so we can take this public?"

Her phone rang and she, thankfully, recognized the phone number.

"Hi, how are you?" she asked. "Haven't heard from you in a while."

She listened for a bit, adding a "Yes," or other affirmative to conversation and then ended with conversation with a cheery, "It was good to hear from you."

* * *

Felix Blake finished grooming Winston, who while vain, was obviously annoyed that he was being groomed every single day. The last two weeks, since he had escaped from Jemma's Atomic Orbit, had found Felix Blake concentrating on stabilizing himself. Long, exhausting runs in the park, time spent with Winston and catching up on the latest Michael Connelly books. Plus long nights as he tried to catch up with whatever intel he had missed

Oh, and he had canceled his last appointment with Therapist Tim, which had earned him a voice mail of creative obscenities.

He needed to focus on himself, so he had withdrawn from John and Phil. Not completely, as they had lunch once or twice and John was still freeloading most nights at his apartment, but really, they were occupied with chasing Jemma Simmons and he was busy chasing his sanity.

He had checked his email when he saw the announcement that Mrs. Roberts was retiring from the cafeteria… Naturally the instigator of said festivities had added, "She'll be disappointed if you're not there."

Mrs. Roberts, she of the warm smile, who always baked Winston dog biscuits, who had faithfully visited him after the Fall of New York while he was hospitalized and brought him contraband coffee and crumb cakes… really… he had to attend. The gauntlet thrown, there was no escape for Felix Blake. Therefore, he nervously picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hey, it's me," he stated before he paused. "Uhm… yeah, I've been busy so I haven't called you back. The reason why I'm calling is that Roberts is retiring and they're having a little party for her. You got the invite, also? It would be entirely too loud for Winston and… would you mind being my support?"

He paused, bit his lip and waited for a response.

"Swear, I won't be Flakey Blakey," he added. Then in a hopeful tone, he added, "There will be dancing? I think my hip is sufficiently limber enough so we can surprise everyone with our dancing ability."

More silence.

"Yeah, I'm not doing too good at the moment. It's… odd… but as we discussed, it's better for me."

He listened for a bit and then smiled, "Thanks. Umm… maybe afterwards, we can go for drinks? The Cassa is nearby and I remember you always liked that hotel especially the marble bath tubs. Maybe I could rent a suite just in case we drink too much?"

Another long pause and then he admitted, "Yeah, not doing good at all. Feeling a bit lost and lonely and I'd like to be close to someone. And even though the last few times, there's been issues on my end, I've always made sure you've been satisfied. So… maybe, we could spend the night together, Nikki?"


	46. The Return of the Exes

**_Wednesday night_ **

"Maybe we could spend the night together, Nikki?" Felix pleaded.

Fuck, he hadn't just gone down that road again, he had merrily four wheeled down it, and had ripped up the Little Old Lady who Lived on the Corner's Flower Bed. Nikki said nothing, and he was about to hang up the phone (Which he should have done before he had dialed the G.D. phone; hindsight was truly 20/20) but she spoke.

"I'd like that," she softly admitted. "I miss you, Felix. I'm worried because you don't sound like you're in a good way right now."

"Maybe, we talk tonight? There's a tapa place we could meet?" he offered.

* * *

"Where's your four legged companion?" Nicolette asked when they met. She gave him a quick, tight embrace, which was not her normal behavior with him. It felt good, though, as he needed to be touched and held. To be normal.

"Winston?" He asked as though it could be anyone else besides a very large dog who was supremely confident in his belief that he was the human and Felix was his service animal in their relationship, even as he slid into the bench right after her. "Wanted to finish watching the game. He loves table tennis even though I tell him it's rigged."

"You didn't want to show up with a big dog that wears a Service Dog vest," she retorted. He nodded once, and she reached for his hand. "You are seriously down, Felix. That dog is your best friend."

"I just wanted to be normal," he explained. Nikki squeezed his hand and the physical contact bolstered him enough so he could smile.

"And you thought you could be normal with me?" she asked, and then, wonders of wonders, she gave him a fond smile. "Oh good God, Fe."

"I know you've had a rough time since your dad died, and … I thought we could be miserable together," he admitted. "We could go to that little movie theater that tries too hard to be hip. They're doing the Best of TB and Consumption series. Spoiler, everyone dies."

"Felix, I'm transferring to the Boston office," she blurted. "You were in quarantine with your new wonderful girlfriend when the job offer arrived, and I accepted it because there's nothing left for me in New York. My last day is Friday. I start two weeks from this upcoming Monday."

His heart skipped a beat, because Nikki leaving town… but he quickly regained his composure, "Your mother really needs you and you'll be… what an hour away at the most from her?"

She nodded and they moved together closer, drawing physical comfort from each other.

"Why aren't you with Ms. Wonderful? You know, the one who's fucking brilliant, and pretty and the complete and utter opposite of me? The one that gets along so fabulously with your best buddies, Phil and John?"

"I should never have said that, I'm sorry. I was an absolute ass," he admitted. "Especially in front of the others. I'm so sorry, Nikki."

She squeezed his hand again and shook her head.

"Go ahead, it's nothing I haven't said to myself." she admitted. "She's young, she's pretty…. She's fucking brilliant and I'm just a paper pusher."

"We're not together anymore," he blurted.

Her expressive eyes softened and she shook her head.

"Felix, you really liked her," she protested. "What happened? I know Phil and John think she's all that and a bag of chips, so they didn't drive her away."

"Crazy Train Time, ticket for one," he painfully explained. "I seem to fuck up everything good. Because you have to admit, when we were good, we were fucking fantastic. And when we weren't good, it was hell on Earth."

"I noticed you've gotten greyer since you've been dating her," Nikki stated. **_Politely_**. With a wrinkled nose that meant she was being a smart ass.

God, how he had loved that wrinkled nose.

"I've gone WHITE," he protested.

"You look good. Makes you look … distinguished…"

"Makes me look fucking old," he growled.

She squeezed his hand hard, and sighed. "You know that I clung so tightly because I was terrified of losing you, right? Phil and John were always there, talking to your doctors and I was… I was like… I'm his fiancée. Let me take care of him. And you let them, Blake. You let them swoop in like they were goddamn Melinda May springing from Fury's fucking forehead and push me away. That hurt, Felix. Really hurt. So I decided to hurt you, because your lack of faith in me really fucking hurt."

"Wasn't a lack of faith in you, was a lack of faith in me," he admitted with a wry grin. "I mean what woman would want to put up with someone who had nightmares every goddamn night? I couldn't even walk…."

"I would have stayed, willingly, if you would had let me in," she admitted. "So, you're back to your old ways, Felix. Someone gets close, you panic and you push them away before they can abandon you. Your parents and I really fucked you over well."

"I pushed you away first." He admitted that slowly, and they sat in silence, holding hands. Finally, Felix struggled to break the silence.

"You'll need to get a four wheel drive with an automatic transmission," he suggested. "Or else get rid of the Mustang. You'll go through another clutch within a year or so."

"I can't get rid of that car, I have such fond memories of breaking it in with you," she teased. "Thank God, it was a convertible!"

He snorted and shook his head.

* * *

They closed the restaurant, just chatting. That done, he walked her back to her car, just to be safe, as it was late, and dark. Then they necked liked a bunch of teenagers, eager, keen and **_hungry_** , until Nikki gently pushed him away.

" ** _Both_** our therapists would be furious with us right now," she softly explained. "We're **_bad_** together, Felix. You're really lonely and you're craving affection. I'm mourning my father… and… "

"I want to be bad with you," he wheedled. "You're leaving town, leaving my life… I want a happy memory to end it on."

He tried to smile and she shook her head. "God, I love that smile. So put it away, Blake. I'm not falling for it. But seriously, I'm not completely leaving your life, Felix. **_Never_** ," she protested.

"Promise?" he asked.

"Promise," she assured him. "And this is a good memory. Four whole hours and we didn't curse or scream at each other. That's a new record for us."

For a brief, painful moment, it was like the old times, when she was the center of his universe and he was head over heels, giddily in love. It was Wednesday, so Garrett should be at Phil's, so Felix offered, "Come home with me. Come on. Let me try again, please?"

He was close to stimming, he knew, because he wanted sex, desperately but the last few times had been horrific failures, but much like a moth to the flame, he kept returning back to her. This time it would be different… Yeah, like the last three times, his inner Felix remarked. Hindenburg! Titanic! Implosion of the Imperial Death Star!

"I worry," she admitted. "That bringing sex into this might… Especially since you're not missing me, Felix. You're missing her. Trust me, a woman knows these things. Go talk to her, go bring her to your therapist, learn new coping mechanisms for when she gets to be too much. Let to tell her that she's overwhelming you and that you need some emotional peace and quiet."

Deliberately, she placed her hands on his arm, the one that he was struggling to control, to prevent it from stimming.

"Trust her enough so you don't have to constantly repress yourself. We were together for five years before everything went to hell. Before New York, you never felt the need to hide the occasional head bobbing or put your hand in your pocket to hide that it shook. I found the little quirks endearing because it was **_my_** Felix and you trusted me enough to be him."

She put her hands on his face and she smiled.

"Dancing on Friday, yes. Hotel afterwards, no. Unless you take her," she explained. "I want you to be happy, Fe. My father wanted you to be happy and he told me… just before he died, that I need to understand that … our time had passed when we could patch up the damage we did to each other. I did want a whole bunch of babies with you."

"Not too late," he offered. Feebly. "I can easily be disabled out of SHIELD as unfit to service, and I can move up North? And we can start trying… tonight?"

He felt the last chance at normalcy being ripped from his grip. A family, a wife, a child, maybe a daughter who always loved Daddy even though he was an absolute control freak… because children always loved their parents.

No matter what.

"Tempting," she admitted. "We're not good together anymore, Felix. Not anymore."

"I could try harder," he suggested. "Put a little more effort, and it just might work this time."

Her face softened, and he knew the answer.

"You've tried so hard, for so long. You should just permit yourself to be the new Felix, not the old Felix," she admitted.

"Nobody likes the new Felix," he protested. "Not enough to stick around."

She hugged him tightly then.

* * *

"Phil? PHIL!" Garrett bellowed. "Felix with you? Winston is by himself in the apartment. He's got pay per view porn up and he's racking up charges. Winston, Felix is gonna be so pissed at you."

Winston barked, an angry bark that sounded suspiciously like FU.

"No, he's not here. He's not in the apartment? And he left Winston behind? Give me a moment," Phil requested. He pulled his cell phone away from his ear and turned to Jemma. "Jemma, can you please call a number for me if I give it to you?"

She nodded and he rattled off a number.

"You want me to call Tim?" She asked.

"Felix is being distinctively unFelixly at the moment. I have permission to speak with Tim, or at least I had," Phil stressed. "Call him, explain the situation to him, and ask him if he's heard from Felix since his appointment this week? John, is there anything on the table? A note? Can you trace his cell?"

He waited for a moment and John then reported back, "He's at a Tapas place. He could be having dinner but it's odd that he didn't bring Winston… unless… Give me a minute."

"Left a message on Tim's voice mail," Jemma explained.

Phil nodded while he listened to John. The bastard was using his best conniving, genial tones which Phil knew from hard earned experience was impossible to trust. "Hi… I was supposed to meet two friends of mine there but I'm running late. Can you tell me if they're there? It was a blind date so I'm not sure if they actually managed to locate each other as I lied a bit about their appearance. I said the gentleman was distinguished, but honestly, he's got white hair and threatening eyebrows. Looks constipated. Probably wearing a leather jacket? Oh good, he's there and… is there a woman with him. Looks Italian? Curly hair, dark as midnight as she dyes it? Also possess a nose that only the kindest would define as generous? She's with him…. Are they getting along? ... They're getting along **_really_** well? No, no, no. I don't want to leave a message…. Hate to break the mood… Yes, I can tell you're a romantic, too! Thank you!"

"Fuck, he's with Nikki," Phil and John exclaimed in perfect unison.

"Oh no," Jemma moaned. Her mind was full of disturbing visions of her favorite white-haired duckling trapped in the maws of the dreaded Nikki. Was that a flap of his wing, as though he struggled for release? A plaintive quack for help?

"I thought YOU were supposed to watch him," continued the boys.

"He's been very focused with work lately, but I assume because Victoria Hand had placed him on monitoring due to all his recent absences. In the last four months, he's been out for two weeks due to his hip, took a week's vacation because of you not dying, got electrocuted so he was out for another two weeks, Nikki's father died so he was out for a week and then it was extended to three weeks because he's quarantined with Jemma. He's been out of work, eight weeks out of sixteen," reminded Phil.

"Yes, so he's been working a great deal, but the tapa place is about to close in thirty minutes, so … I think we need to do a sock and soap intervention," John growled. "Come up to his apartment, we'll wait for them."

"Ok, I'll see you there," Phil agreed. He closed his phone and grimaced, before he turned to face Jemma. "I'm heading to Felix's place."

"I'm coming also," Jemma protested. "We have to protect Blake from himself. He may not want to be protected, but…"

* * *

By the time they had reached Felix's apartment, his therapist had joined them. Tim ranted, raved and cursed as he revealed that Felix hadn't been to an appointment in some time.

"His continual employment is conditional; based on his ability to perform the functions of his position. I cannot sign off if he's arbitrarily decided to cease our appointments," Tim growled. "You called me, Jemma. Since I was in the area, I figured I'd just stop in, do a house call. What's going on?"

"He's with Nikki," was Phil's succinct reply.

"Good God," spat Tim. "Least Winston's there, so someone has a brain that isn't controlled by his bollocks."

"He… left Winston home," Phil slowly admitted.

The PTSD Therapist who was still a Howling Commando to his very core growled. Loudly.

* * *

An unsuspecting Felix Blake opened the door to his apartment and whistled for Winston. "Come on, time to do the pee mail and strut your stuff for that Afghan Hound in 9G. You know it's never gonna work, Winston. You were snipped before I got you."

Winston who was having a bit of a sulk, it seemed, refused to answer. Blake called again, louder, as he thought that perhaps Winston was asleep. Though it was odd that Winston wasn't there to greet him. When he walked further into his apartment, he realized that the tailed traitor was curled up with Jemma Simmons and he was licking her face. And yes, his tail was wagging for all its worth.

Plainly saying, 'Tell it to the Tail, Blakey. I have a new best friend'.

Simmons. Dugan. Coulson. Garrett. Winston.

Fuck. They were doing an intervention and he wasn't having any of that shit.

While inside, he screamed at what he viewed as a betrayal. Because this was his sanctuary, his safety, his sanity… and… they were here… judging him. Didn't even ask, nope. They just swooped in to rescue him.

"I will do the talking. Nicolette and I did not have sex. We talked for the last few hours and that was it. There is no reason for you to be in my house, looking like a jury who has already convicted me. I'd like you all to leave, especially you, Garrett. I think it's time you found your own place to live. I'm evicting you. Once again, I did not have sex with Nikki. I have not had sex with Phil or John in months. I've never frickle frackled with Simmons and Tim, you're never have been or will you ever will be my type."

"Pity," Dugan drawled.

"I'd like you to leave. I'm exhausted, and don't wish to talk to you now," Felix requested. "Any of you. Seriously, it's eleven at night. Get out."

"We're just worried," Jemma explained.

"Out," he repeated. "I just don't want to deal with you. Winston, stay or go. It's up to you."

Winston, who had honestly, only been licking Jemma to make his Bestest Friend jealous, immediately ran to his pet's side.

"Don't cancel your appointment tomorrow night," warned Tim.

"OUT," repeated Felix.

* * *

Thursday morning

Thomas Avery, SHIELD Academy dropout, HYDRA loyalist and former Jemma Simmons' boyfriend, gave a winning smile to his Commander.

"I sent her an email, told her that I wanted to get together for old times' sake. She'll show up. Promise. She shows up and your team grabs her. With any luck, Fitz will follow her like a long lost puppy dog and you'll get two brainiacs for the price of one."

Brock Rumlow, SHIELD agent and HYDRA mole, was not terribly impressed with Avery's winning smile or his easy assurance. However, his HYDRA superiors had decided that Jemma Simmons and her mind was needed, and Avery had promised… promised… to get Simmons away from her three geriatric agents.

Seriously, it was as though old One Eyed Fury had a spy among HYDRA, as the two brightest brains were protected by a Howling Commando descendent (by four different ways) and three aged agents that still managed to prevent the spread of HYDRA just by being… lucky. All three of them had died and just wouldn't stay dead, damn it.

* * *

**_To: Jemma_ **

**_From: Tom Avery_ **

**_Hello Dr. Simmons._ **

**_I'm in town for a job interview. Let's grab a cup of our preferred caffeinated beverages and chat? Let's me at 67-78_ ** **_th_ ** **_Avenue at The Tea Shoppe. I won't be able to check my email so hope to see you at twelve! Don't stand me up! :)_ **

**_You can catch me up on your latest discoveries. And I'll tell you what I can about my foray into the cutting edge of Biotechnology and Applied Biochemistry. Come on, when do you get a chance to talk shop with someone who is in the field?_ **

**_Avery_ **

**_I know I was an ass when we were together, but I've grown up a lot since then. Getting kicked out of the Academy really made me grow up, fast._ **

* * *

"Seriously, I wouldn't go meet him," Skye protested. "Not without backup. I'll go with you."

"Would you really go with me?" Jemma asked. She sounded uncertain but really, the chance to chat about the very cutting edge of Biotechnology and Applied Biochemistry.

"Yes," Skye promised.

"How's Felix?" was Jemma's next question.

"Agent Blake was a hairy bear, he was a scary bear. I'd like to beat a hasty retreat from his lair," she whispered as Agent Blake had decreed School House Rock as suitable homework for her GED. "Winston is doing everything but sitting in his lap and Agent Blake is … To be honest, that's the only reason why I am willing to go with you with Avery. He's in one of his really quiet moods and I'm scared to set him off."

However, she was required to notify Silent Blake that she was taking a lunch.

"I'm heading to lunch, Agent Blake," Skye chirped. "Do you need anything?"

"Be back by 1:15," he ordered. He didn't even bother to look up as he stared at the monitor.

"Ok, bye!"

* * *

Jasper Sitwell, Legendary Patsy, Triple Agent Extraordinaire (or possibly quintuple agent as he was totally confused by higher math required at times to determine his allegiance, but the result was he lived and breathed SHIELD and to hell with the HYDRA assholes that had invaded his life like a bad case of body lice) inwardly groaned, even while he smiled at Brock.

Seriously. Kidnapping Simmons? Fricking stupid. However, it would very well blow the lid of HYDRA when Blake, Coulson and Garrett descended upon the place like a trio of very pissed off Guardians Angels. Hell, Sitwell would even come along and help.

He strode down the long hallway to Maria Hill's office and took a seat in her waiting room.

"I have an appointment," he stated to the secretary. He didn't know her well as Maria's main secretary had been in a car accident a few days earlier and was recuperating.

"She was called away for a meeting. I don't know when she'll be back."

He thanked the secretary, left and then tried to hide his unease. His Sitwell sense tingled, which meant something was seriously wrong.

Coulson. He needed to get to Coulson.

* * *

Jemma recognized him almost immediately, and wished she hadn't. Time had not been kind to Avery, not at all. While her boy toys (and she counted all three of them as hers, even though Blake was having a walkabout) had been handsome younger, time had matured their features and made them utterly sexy silver foxes, time had ruined what handsome features Avery once had, and turned them into a caricature. (Really, was shiny forehead normal, or what that a gift of the Botox fairy?). His complexion was ruddy and blotchy, and his eyes were dull.

Seriously, she must have been desperate to date him!

"So glad you showed," he admitted. "I want to meet some friends of mine. They're heard so much about you and how smart you are."

"I think we should go," Skye whispered to Simmons. "I have a bad feeling."

"I think we should also," Jemma admitted. "I'm sorry, Avery. I think we should be leaving."

"No," Avery repeated even as several armed strangers appeared. "You're staying."

Skye's phone began playing Limp Bizkit's "Behind Blue Eyes" and she grimaced as the one armed gunman poked her back with a pistol. "It's my boss," she explained. "If I don't answer, he'll wonder. He thinks I'm at his beck and call."

"Lie to him, or I blow your head off," said one of the gunmen.

"And I blow off hers," offered another gunman.

Skye looked a wide-eyed Simmons and she nodded her head in agreement.

"Hi, Felix!" Skye chirped. "What's up, Felix? Is this about the blue folder? I told you four times, it's in the top drawer where you keep your sugarless mints." She sighed loudly after a very long pause. "Seriously. You don't have to thank me, Felix. I'm just doing my job and that means I keep track of what you need for your meetings. Buh-bye."

With that, her conversation with Agent Blake was over.

* * *

Felix Blake did not understand what just happened. He had called to see if she would be kind enough to pick up his lunch and she had talked about a blue folder in his top drawer, where he kept his ammo. (Not his sugarless mints, but his ammo. One never knew when the SHIELD HQ might come under attack and he'd bitterly regret not having another clip or four for his gun) Plus she had called him, Felix. Repeatedly.

With a quick tap of his fingers, he activated the tracking device on her phone. It wasn't just a tracking device, it was slightly radioactive. That way if her phone got tossed, she still would have been radioactively tagged with an unique signature.

Phil's Alien Adoptee was in trouble and he'd have to get her out of it.

**_Dear Victoria,_ **

**_I'm afraid that I need this afternoon off._ **

**_Explain later,_ **

Even as he clicked send, he accepted that Victoria Hand would fire him, so God help him, Mary Sue better be in trouble.

That done, he sent another email.

**_Nikki,_ **

**_Can you do me a really big favor? Bring Winston to Phil. Something has come up and I can't bring Winston._ **

**_Love,_ **

**_Felix_ **


	47. Smoke on the Water

Felix had given Nikki a quick (goodbye?) kiss on her cheek when she had entered his office. He then handed her a scrawled note, requested that she give it to Phil and to also bring Phil The Dog. Her marching orders specified, he disappeared on whatever suicide mission he had decided needed him. The Very Much Pissed off Dog who never liked Nikki, never had, never would, and who was now sprawled out, pretending to be dead, in Felix's office. Nikki, being a curvy Italian girl, grabbed his leash and pulled with every ounce of her being.

And moved him not a single inch.

She pulled and she pulled and she huffed and she puffed and the damn dog wouldn't move.

"I know you never liked me," she spat at the dog. "But I was the one that bought you the big fluffy pillow, not Felix. I bought you squeaky toys and bones, BY THE GROSS, and you never liked me. Fine, but Felix wants me to get you to PHIL, because Felix is doing something stupid and you may have a new owner. If you don't get off this goddamn floor this minute, Winston, I'm leaving you as I need to rescue Felix. And if he dies, I'm blaming you and I'm taking you to get a Foo Foo Poodle cut. That means, no beard, and no eyebrows, but nothing but puffy pillow legs, Winston. You'll look adorably FOO FOO. I will take pictures and send it as my Christmas Card."

Winston, being excessively but justifiably vain regarding his appearance, nearly trampled her in his eagerness to reach the door.

* * *

Jasper Sitwell was nearly tackled by a very large service dog and Nicolette on his way to Coulson's office. Nicolette worked in Accounting and he always ensured that his paperwork was perfectly arranged and organized whenever he turned it into her. Unlike Ward, who never understood how an accountant might approve of that, and in turn, approve of the lonely man took such care of his paperwork and who would really love to take the accountant out to a nice restaurant and chat a bit. And really after being called out on his reputation for being a player by Jemma Simmon, he had taken a long, hard look at himself. End result, he didn't like what he had seen, so he was working on it.

Rumor was that she was Blake's Ex, and his public façade as Ward's cohort in crime be damned, Sitwell truly appreciated the caustic Felix Blake. First and foremost, Blake wasn't HYDRA, wasn't considered a Likely HYDRA Candidate and most importantly, had repeatedly foiled some of HYDRA's most nefarious schemes merely by observing everything in his monitor room. What had kept him alive for so long was the devil's own luck and Victoria Hand, who held him under her formidable protection.

A hopelessly naïve junior agent Jasper Sitwell had quickly realized that his childhood fairy tale Kingdom of SHIELD was in fact a Fiefdom, split into various factions. Fury was the king, and the various barons controlled their sections even while they debated on the health of the king. What was a Knight Errant such as Sitwell to do? Report to Maria Hill, who was his indirect contact with the Lady of the Shield, Peggy Carter.

Undercover with Hydra, no way of contacting Maria, an agent's life at stake…. And God forbid Simmons converted to Hydra, willingly or unwillingly, as the damage would be immense, Sitwell rolled the dice. Decision made, he would report to Phil Coulson who was known far and wide as Fury's Special Snowflake.

Blake's…. service dog… was lopping along at a ground eating pace and pulling Nicolette behind him.

"Winston, SIT!" She snapped with such authority that the dog immediately sat down, and appeared utterly stunned that he had done so. She kicked off her heels, scooped them up and then began running for all her worth, dragging the confused dog behind her.

* * *

She reached Coulson's office a few seconds before Jasper Sitwell and his surprisingly long legs. (A hypothesis she'd have to confirm later on when the agent dropped off his neatly organized and color coordinated paperwork, for which she gave him a mental platinum star besides admiring his supreme self-confidence in just utterly shaving it all off. However, he did have a reputation for being a player. So, regretfully Sitwell was eye candy.)

"Phil," she began as Sitwell began talking over here. "I was here first, Sitwell. Take a number. Phil, it's about Felix. He's heading into what he thinks might be big trouble, really big, as he made me bring you Winston."

John Garrett made a loud noise when he took his legs off the coffee table and jumped to his feet.

"I'll get the weapons," he offered.

"Is this about Simmons?" Sitwell asked.

"Simmons?" Coulson questioned as he was utterly confused, especially as Winston was fiercely glaring at him as though it was HIS fault.

"No, he thinks his assistant is in trouble. Why would he be worried about Simmons?" Nikki asked. "Anyway, he told me to give this to you."

She gave him the note and Phil began to read. After a minute or so, he groaned. Loudly.

"What's happening with Simmons, Sitwell?" Garrett requested. "If Simmons is involved, probably Skye is also."

"HYDRA plans on kidnapping her later today and converting her to their way of thinking. I can't get to Maria Hill. I don't who I can trust here, because HYDRA…"

"What?" exclaimed John, Phil and Nikki. Not to be outdone, Winston barked his displeasure.

"Peggy Carter had me infiltrate them. I'm reporting to Maria, but I am being blocked today. My cover might be blown, or… I don't know who to trust anymore, but Peggy Carter thinks a great deal of Phil. That's why I came here."

"Prove it," snapped Coulson.

"She told me that for a man of your age and experience, you blush rather easily," retorted Sitwell.

Garrett gasped. Loudly. And yes, Phil Coulson turned scarlet.

"You've actually **_met_** the Reverend Mother?" Garrett exclaimed in disbelief. "However, let's find out if Skye and Simmons went for lunch together. Probably Trip is with Fitz, so those are two more on the side of the Just and Right and…. Do you know if our favorite Administrative Avenging Angel is taking requests? Call May, Phil. Get Romanov and Barton also."

* * *

Fortunately, he had decided to take the bike for work today. He switched out of his work clothes, jumped into his motorcycle gear, grabbed as much ammo as he could cram into his assorted pockets and was almost completely out of the office before a raving Victoria Hand bellowed, in her most melodious tones, "FELIX XAVIER BLAKE! REPORT TO MY OFFICE **_IMMEDIATELY_**!"

Instinctively, he stopped. Really, he owed his current position to Vic, however, he couldn't let her waylay him.

He had been her THIRD S.O. a long time ago, and even after her career had skyrocketed to the SHIELD zenith, and his had fallen to the basement nadir like a tired shooting star, she **_remembered_**. That as her S.O., he hadn't cared what colors her hair was (though he recommended changing the red when she had gotten horribly sunburn), had looked the other way when she had her affairs with her fellow agents (Yes, it was against the regs, but really, as long he didn't witness anything, he'd pretend not to know as yes, even Old Felix Blake had urges and she didn't need to look so goddamn surprised as he was at MOST ten years older than her and the men in his family greyed early especially when dealing with women like her) and didn't really care that he was her third S.O. as her two previous had declared her hopeless (They were idiots, but nevertheless he still doubted that she could ever be stealthy as she was too damn tall).

However, she relied heavily on facts, figures and documentation, which he provided by the gross for her various operations.

In this operation, he didn't have that. He just had a gut feeling that something had gone wrong, that Mary Sue was in trouble, and since she was his responsibility (As God KNEW that Phil and John had their hands full with Simmons) he needed to fix it.

He had just arrived at the location when his phone vibrated.

SENDING BACKUP. GET INTEL. SIMMONS MAY BE CAPTURED ALSO. PJC

Kidnapped? They had been KIDNAPPED?

* * *

"Avery, I'm afraid that I don't wish to be hired by your current employer," Jemma Simmons brightly chirped. She ignored Skye who was pinching her hard, because she had attempted to distract them so HOPEFULLY Felix would realize something was wrong and get the Cavalry involved. Not that her boys couldn't handle their captors, EASILY, but really, the Cavalry would get it done so much FASTER. Perhaps a flip of her hair would slice open a jugular? OR FIVE?

However, the mythical Cavalry had perhaps stopped for a cuppa as she was taking a bit longer than Jemma felt was reasonable. Especially as HYDRA HEAD #1 was about to smash her in the head with a shotgun barrel.

A rather noisy van pulled up, backfiring like a mad, and blasting **_SMOKE ON THE WATER_**. It was loud enough to rattle the windows. And the door. There was a sound of breaking glass when one of the windows shattered. A small, innocent appearing SleepySphere dropped onto the floor and while Simmons thought it was the STUPIDEST name ever for a device, it was still quite the welcome sight as it meant that Fitz (and her boys as they'd never let Fitz roam unattended) and quite possibly the Cavalry were in the van. Its assorted lights blinked as it merrily rolled underneath one of the tables. HYDRA was rather confused; however Brock Rumlow recovered quickly and attempted to locate the thrower of the sphere.

"Is that a bomb, Avery?" Brock demanded.

"I'm not sure," Avery babbled, and Jemma felt a moment of pity for Avery. Not too much, mind you, but some because it seemed that his ego still far exceeded his abilities. Unlike her boys, whose egos were far surpassed by their talents.

Especially in bed (At least the two she appraised but she had explicit plans to meticulously sample the third). But it seemed their espionage and rescue skills were unsurpassed also.

"Inhale and close your eyes. NOW," hissed Jemma, just before the Bot exploded.

* * *

"Well, once again, Vic, we've saved civilization as we know it," John Garrett announced even as Victoria Hand and three SHIELD Squads descended upon the HYDRA Hangout. May, Barton and Romanoff had helped secure their HYDRA prisoners and had spontaneously decided to take the rest of the day off with pay. Discretion being the better part of valor and all that. "Perhaps that would weigh heavily in our favor?"

"Don't call me, Vic. It's condescending," snapped Victoria.

"You let Blake," protested a wounded Garrett. Phil hissed, 'Shut up' and Garrett protested once more. "She does let him!"

"It's a term of respect from him. Speaking of which, where is he?" Hand followed everyone's pointed hands to discover that Felix Blake was being personally thanked by Jemma Simmons for her rescue. She was snogging him into utter submission in between moments of tearfully yelling at him for leaving her.

The poor man appeared confused, terrified and in dire need of an escape route.

"Simmons is thanking him for her rescue," Phil dryly stated. "She's quite vocal, so she might be done in an hour or three."

"I wished someone would thank me like that," muttered Jasper. To his surprise, Nikki tapped him on his shoulder and when he turned to face her, she buzzed him on the lips.

A wistful Skye watched as Nikki and Jasper set up a date for later, Trip and Fitz were being too cute for words, and then she looked at Felix's Corpal Punishment of Snogging by Simmons. Bleakness over her lack of social life plus an unhealthy interest in her Boss overwhelmed her and sighed. She had **_no one_**. Ward of the Cheekbones had been involved in her kidnapping. SHE HAD NO ONE. To her surprise, John Garrett tapped her on her shoulder and then gave her a one armed hug.

"Don't worry, we'll add you to the family bed one day when Felix isn't looking," John murmured _sotto voce._ "Have to do it slow else he'll panic. I'll talk with Jemma."

Victoria Hand quivered in righteous indignation at all the protocol violations and decided a strategic retreat would be best. In her best don't fuck with me voice, she announced, "You're ALL suspended, starting tomorrow. For now, report to the HQ for debriefing."

"I think Felix is gonna be debriefed later tonight," announced the irrepressible John Garrett. "And it will be by hand!"

"I'm being bludgeoned by double entendres! Can you just stop?" Phil pleaded.

* * *

"And I'm spending the night with you," Simmons informed a very confused Felix. "So I can give you my personal thanks for rescuing Skye and me. ALL NIGHT LONG, Felix. I think we can agree that you've decided to rejoin the collective again after your little walkabout."

"Help?" he whispered as he looked towards John and Phil. The bastards were grinning at him so they would be no help whatsoever.

"Thanking you all night long, Blake. Because I'm never letting any of my ducklings out of my sight. Never, ever again," she stated. "Then tomorrow, we'll talk about nesting so I can start planning my brood of ducklings. Should I skip the birth control tonight so we can try to have ducklings right away? Or do you think we should wait until the four of us move into together. Well, five, as we have to count Winston."

"Quack?" he whispered.


	48. Managing Expectations

Jemma was blathering on and on about ducklings and the making of baby ducklings and… spending the night together, which was not on Felix's schedule for another month or so. Ok, so he was the ONLY one of them following the schedule he had painstakingly created but really, there had been a great deal of time and effort placed in that schedule… and… and… he was close to panicking, because… everything was moving way too fast, especially as… he had a mental image of little ducklings, a dozen or so of them… and … he'd be frantic with worry about them… because of hunters and guns…and ** _HYDRA_** … who had crawled out from whatever rock it had been under the last forty years. And… because several of ducklings would have Garrett as Daddy Duck, which meant that they'd be little hell raisers… and probably break their wings doing dumb dareduck deeds. They might even terrorize the quieter ducks, especially the little introspective duckling who sadly took more after her father than her mom.

He needed Simmons to immediately cease and desist because his mind was racing… racing… racing… regarding the four of them living together and that meant that they'd need at least a five car garage. Probably six, as they'd need a van for the ducklings and…Lola required a heated garage…. And he better start pulling his finances together and… call his brokers…. Because he'd need to liquidate some of his assets… because even if the four of them pooled their resources, he'd have to contribute the lion's share…. But carefully, because he had never revealed to anyone how much money he possessed. Even his accountants weren't sure because he did his own taxes.

College funds! Life insurance!

But good God!

People would talk!

And how would he be able to explain to that little introspective duckling that it was OK and NORMAL that her parents consisted of three drakes and one duck even though all the other ducklings, goslings and cubs (and let's not forget the Alpaca cria down the street) made nasty comments about her Mama Duck. And that she wasn't to cry because she was loved all her various parents including crazy Uncle John.

SERIOUSLY, WHY WAS HE CALLING ANY AND ALL POSSIBLE FUTURE CHILD OF HIS A DUCKLING?!

When had he fallen off the sanity wagon and gone through the Simmons' Wonderglass?

Really, did Grace Slick need to start droning in his head?

 _One pill makes you larger, And one pill makes you small_ …

He opened his mouth to request Jemma to stop and what came out was a very plaintive, "Quack?"

Unfucking believable.

Was he a man or a drake? Or just a flake?

Evidence pointed to the later, he was afraid to admit.

The kissing stopped and Jemma pulled away.

"Deep breath," she instructed him. Gently. Fondly as though his personality quirks and physicals ticks didn't repel her but instead were cute and endearing. She put her hands on his left hand and squeezed. Hard. "I went far too quickly, didn't I? I'm just glad you're back. There was a rather large Blake size hole in my soul. I had finally gotten very comfortable with you in there and then you ran. Please stop running. I'll chat with Timmy with you."

"We can't rush into this," he finally managed to say. "We need to discuss everything."

She pouted. Seriously, pouted and her lip quivered. Then her eyes brightened and she smiled a very predatory smile.

"After tonight," she promised. "Fun first, and then we can be serious. So I'll be at your place tonight, sevenish. Get rid of Garrett."

He nodded.

* * *

Jemma Simmons, Bad Girl Wanna Be, rummaged through her various unmentionables (ok, she only had three quasi-sexy outfits though she was planning on buy more IMMEDIATELY), decided to wear a very strappy (lots of cut outs) bra and panty set from Victoria's Secret. For a long time, she debated if she should just wear jeans and her leather jacket over it, but she finally decided on a button down shirt (as well, Felix could take his own sweet time undoing the buttons). It was a good decision as when she arrived there was a complication.

OK, three complications.

And a questionnaire.

Actually three questionnaires.

Sexual preferences. Housing preferences and … a child raising questionnaire.

Which meant, no sex in the immediate future.

"I ordered Thai. It should be here shortly," Felix explained as he handed out the questionnaires. "Jemma explained to me that she's interested in a possibly polyamory relationship with the three of us. Therefore we need to set reasonable expectations before any d…"

Felix ceased talking, shook his head and then forced himself to continue, "…Children show up."

"For the record, I believe polyamory is wrong," John Garrett stated.

Everyone turned to look at him, plainly wondering where the hell where that outburst had come from? Having everyone's attention, John merrily continued, "It is either multiamory or polyphilia but mixing Greek and Latin roots is just a violation of every known linguistic law."

Coulson didn't even try to hide his smile while Jemma laughed.

"And that is why we need to discuss how we're supposed to raise children in this relationship when John is not capable of acting like an adult," Felix continued.

"That's not true!" John protested.

Fortunately John was saved by the bell, in this case, the doorbell.

"I'll get it," Felix stated. He left the room, leaving John, Phil and Jemma staring in total horror at the lengthy questionnaires.

"Good God, he's thorough," John sighed.

"He's quite right," Phil admitted. "The three of us have never lived together, ever. John's bounced back and forth for the last two years. It's different, when you have to share a bathroom in the morning. Things get ugly, especially when someone squeezes the toothpaste from the middle opposed to rolling up the end of the tube."

"REALLY? Phil, I now use my own tube of toothpaste. Seriously, I hope we're getting his and hers and his and his vanities in the master suite," protested John. "I hate fighting over the sinks. However, he's right. If the four of us don't act as a solid unit with regards to discipline, the little monsters will play us off each other. Felix will be the disciplinarian, I'll be the fun one, and Phil will be whatever Phil is."

Felix returned and divided out dinner. They ate in silence for a bit, and then Jemma decided to speak.

"I hope that I've reached the point with you three that I don't have to hide behind paper," she protested.

"If it's easier, it's ok, if you fill in the form," Phil assured her.

"I'll just answer. I guess I'll do the sexual questionnaire first, as we need to answer that. Else there will be no children and no need for housing changes," she decided. And yes, she wanted to embarrass her boys.

Too late, she realized that she would be the one that was embarrassed.

Number of orgasms, bare minimum was the first question, so they were setting expectations early, she realized. The road map on how to obtain said erotic expectations would be based on the questions on the next twenty seven pages.

TWENTY SEVEN PAGES. She doubted that she had sex with HYDRA Avery twenty seven times!

"I'd hope for one." There she said it, and she felt very much liberated as she was demanding things like a big bad girl.

"One?" The Felix Blake Eyebrows of Intimidation reached a new level, Garrett didn't look happy and Phil shook his head. "HOPE?"

"One would be … lovely," she murmured, and then she loudly slurped her soup. To blame her flushed complexion on the hot and spicy soup, opposed to her being embarrassed.

"No, how many do you **_expect_**?" Felix repeated.

"THREE," she finally said after picking a prime number completely at random, but five might be really ridiculous. Far more than three, while one was a nice safe number and her experiences with Avery hadn't really left her feeling completed yet the boys were thinking that she didn't think them capable and her churning thoughts were any indication of what Felix dealt with every moment of his life she felt an overwhelming sense of compassion for the introverted Felix.

"Three?" Blake repeated while Garrett jumped into save her, "She's just taking it easy on the old guys. She's setting the bar low so we can surprise her with our Level 7 sexual techniques."

"I should have the last weekend then," Level 8 Coulson inserted.

"Style, positions and techniques are the next series of questions," Felix announced. "You can answer this on paper."

"If I can't answer simple questions about sex, then I shouldn't be having it with you," Simmons insisted. "I seem to remember having this discussion with at least one of you."

Then for added clarification just in case, said person denied said conversation, she added, "Felix."

"Style," Felix explained. "In this question, we want you to inform us of… the quality and character of your preferred sexual encounter."

"What are the options?" She asked.

"Runs the gamut from affectionate to zoo," Phil contributed.

"Zoo?" Simmons repeated. "As in zoo…. Zoo…. Petting zoo? Safari style? Can you explain that further?"

"As in 'You and me baby ain't nothin' but mammals, so let's do it like they do on the Discovery Channel'," John Garrett quoted.

"Oh my good God," she whispered, even as Phil and Felix hit Garrett. HARD. Her boys didn't even look to aim, they just thwacked him.

"I'd really prefer if you didn't check zoo," Felix murmured, while the boys agreed.

"I'd hope for…. affection, compassion and… gentleness," she decided. "Perhaps a smidgeon of humor would be wonderful."

"Anything else?" Felix asked as he wrote her adjectives down.

Really, she felt like she was clad in a paper gown and kicking her feet, waiting to be swabbed. Uncertain, scared and uncertain about what horror was about to barge through the door. Which was ridiculous as she had gotten to second base with both Phil and John and had planned for AT LEAST third base with Felix tonight.

"Would spontaneity be too much to ask? I feel like there will be a bullet list that you'll be checking with extra points given for completing it in a timely fashion."

"We can do spontaneous! We're great at that!" Garrett assured her, while Jemma Simmons noticed that Phil's eyes looked sideways at Felix, who had gone completely poker face. "And in fact, we will deduct points for quickness."

"Though I deeply appreciate meticulousness and attention to detail, so please add that to the list," she quickly added and Phil winked at her.

However, Felix bit his lip because he understood exactly what she had done and why. While she was becoming excessively fond of all her harem, sometimes they did drive her barmy.

"Any other qualities?" Felix asked.

"I admit that I'm a little nervous, so I'd like some reassurance," she admitted. "I'd like handholding and patience."

"You don't feel comfortable with us yet?" Felix questioned. Or just me, was his unasked question.

"You three have a great deal more experience than I do, and I don't want to disappoint your expectations," she admitted. "You've been horribly patient with me and my insecurities and I want this to be good for you also."

"Don't worry about us," Phil protested. "This is all for you."

The two other Harem members agreed. Silence for a long time, where the three men just did their best not to look at each other, when in fact they were. Efforts were made to eat their meals, and then someone had to break the silence.

"Moving on," Felix inserted. He slid her a list, "Positions and techniques. Just mark what you want to try. I've annotated several that one or the other of us would prefer not to attempt. However, if you wish to experiment, you can discuss the issue with your partner as they are not flat out nos. For example, if you has a desire to …. to... role play… with restraints….the matter can be discussed and guidelines established… prior to….the attempt with any of us."

 ** _Just as long as it's not me_** , was the look on his face.

She was about to take the list when he pulled it back. Felix took a Sharpie to savagely cross out several items on the list, and then he perused the list.

"Garrett," he questioned in a strangled tone. "Rimming? Golden showers? I thought we took those off the list as they were most assuredly fuck no! Motorboating? MOTORBOATNG?! Really? This isn't the correct list."

Phil made a face and Garrett protested his innocence before he added, "If she doesn't like motorboats, I am perfectly capable of making choo choo noises or impersonating a motorcycle. Or an airplane, I do a really good airplane taxing for takeoff."

Really, Jemma was not surprised at all when Felix and Phil both slapped John on the back of his head. However, John was, as he rubbed his head and mumbled, "I think I have a concussion."

"One moment, we need to review the list," Phil insisted.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I'm experiencing sympathies for madams who managed bordellos right about now," Felix inserted.

The three men leaned together to begin a hush hush discussion while Jemma Simmons pulled out her Stark Pad to quickly review some of the terms the boys were mentioning. Her jaw dropped when she realized what exactly her boys had decided were absolutely fuck nos.

She decided to look at the next page of the questionnaire. Surely she had gotten through the worst of it?

No, naturally she had not.

What combinations of sexual activity would you prefer?

  1. 1:1
  2. 1:2
  3. 1:3 [Note: will need to get a bigger bed.]
  4. Mix it up!



Do you require Winston to leave the room during sex?

  1. Yes
  2. No



Do you enjoy receiving oral sex?

  1. Yes – love it, love it, love it.
  2. No – hell no.
  3. Maybe?




	49. Envious Time is Fleeting

Jemma Simmons said not a word as she viewed the twenty seven page questionnaire regarding her sexual preferences. Not a single, solitary word. Instead, she shrunk into herself and gave herself a hug even while she desperately hoped that her boys had ended this carnal circus with a simple statement of 'Don't worry, we'll take really good care of you.'

She didn't know what some of the terms meant. Ok, the majority, and… she rubbed her eyes, trying not to show her uneasiness. Once again she had been fooled into a false sense of carnal complacency, but she had been just painfully reminded that she was dealing with **_men_** , sexually experienced men.

The always perceptive Phil noticed her unease first.

"Are you ok?" he asked, and he carefully placed his arm around her. When she shook her head, Phil embraced her and kissed her. Gently. Tenderly.

Felix and John left the room and she leaned closer to Phil. He tightened his embrace around her, and he let her say what she wanted.

"I don't know what most of these terms mean," she softly admitted after far too long.

He continued holding her and finally he spoke. "Felix went a little esoteric when he created his questionnaire. He meant well, as he wanted information on what you'd expect when you kicked our tires but…He just really Blaked it up because he wanted to make sure he covered everything. I hope you don't think that we want you to do any of that on the questionnaire. For men, sex is really just our way of satisfying our need for physical and emotional closeness. Don't worry, we'll do this at your speed, Jemma."

She continued hugging him until she felt better.

"Some questions that you didn't get a chance to answer included such important information as do you like to cuddle? Do you like to talk afterwards? Do you want to be held until you fall asleep? What type of ring do you want? What type of house? What can we do to make this easy for you?" He stopped talking and then softly asked, "Would you mind if I kept my shirt on and the lights off for our first time?"

"Phil," she protested.

"You're not the only nervous one in this. I mean, you've decided to take all three of us. Three damaged men, and…" he stopped talking. "What religion will the kids be? You're Anglican, I'm Irish Catholic, Garrett is Southern Baptist and Felix, while he was raised Irish Catholic, he and God haven't really been on speaking terms for a while. We must figure this all out. Now."

"And the house? We'll need security, and a lot of it. A safe room, but… it also has to be nice… homey… because we're creating a **_family_**. Family and a home, a place to belong, to feel… safe…" Phil explained. "So let's talk about what type of home you'd want. What do you want in your new home?"

"It's silly," she protested.

"No, tell me," Phil insisted.

"I want a fish tank. I've always wanted Sea Horses," she admitted. "I think it would be very educational to have a tank full of Sea Horses. Their mating dance is very intricate."

"I always admired male Sea Horses," Phil wryly stated. He patted in belly in pretend sympathy and then shook his head. "Don't know if I want to be one the next time I come around."

He smiled, so Jemma felt braver.

"What else do you want in your new home?" he prompted. "You need a space that's all your own. Surrounded by three crotchedy old men, what do you want as your sanctuary, Jemma?"

She pondered for a bit, and then smiled, as she imagined having a tea party with a far too serious little girl. And Winston. Naturally. There would be silly hats, dainty sandwiches and a great deal of girl talk.

"I want a garden. An English garden, so I don't feel so homesick," she admitted. "I haven't been home in two years, because there's nothing really left of it, not after Loki. I'd like an English garden for my own space."

"Would you like an arbor?" Felix asked as he re-entered the room. "Stone benches?"

"Yes, and a wandering pathway through the garden, with little hideaways here and there," she admitted. "I'd hope for butterflies and hummingbirds."

"Perhaps a sitting room of your own in the house?" was John's contribution. "With a big sign that says anyone with a penis not allowed?"

"It's getting expensive," she protested even as she giggled as her witty duckling.

"You tell me what you want, and I'll see what I can find," Felix stated. "I…. we… want you happy. There's four of us in this relationship, so I think we can do better than a broken down duplex. After you come up with a list of must haves, we need to gather our finances together, figure it out what we can afford, plus do all the legal papers."

"You already take of my finances for me, so just tell me how much I owe," John easily admitted. "Jemma, Felix has me on a very strict allowance."

"He spends like there is no tomorrow, but surprise, now there is!" Felix added.

Phil snorted a laugh but then turned very serious even while John grinned and opened his empty wallet.

"I want granite countertops in my kitchen along with stainless steel appliance. I also would appreciate an open concept layout," John Garrett offered helpfully.

"John, you don't cook," Felix protested. "Please stop watching Hilary Farr and David Visentin."

"I love her accent, it's so very posh," John admitted. "Plus David reminds me of Felix."

"His hairline is more like Phil," quipped Felix who also watched "Love it or List it".

John then sat down on the couch and motion for Jemma to sit next to him. "Let's toss the questionnaire on sex for now, ok?"

"Thank you," she whispered as she sank next to him.

"Seriously, next date, I'll take you to Babes in Toyland…" John began. "Don't wear anything SHIELD related. Maybe I can get an advance on my allowance and we can have some fun."

"Wait… wait… wait…" Phil sputtered even while Felix groaned. Winston tried to hide behind Felix and John's smile grew even bigger.

"Babes in Toyland?" Jemma innocently asked.

"We can go pick some stuff out for you to try. Some card games, some dice… some personal items and you can explore…"

"Is this a sex shop? From how Phil and Felix are acting…" she paused. Damned her English complexion and struggled on, "You are **_trouble_** , Jonathan Garrett."

"No, I'm the fun one. Felix is methodical, hence the questionnaire which was absolutely intimidating, though well meant… because you weren't expressing your desires," John added quickly as Felix was about to protest. "Phil is the romantic while I'm just John. We won't go hard core, not at all, as I'm really not into that stuff, but some of the other stuff can be fun. Massage oil… Phil and Felix give really good back massages. What do you say, Jemma?"

"No naked Twister," protested Felix. "I am not playing naked Twister with this hip. Sorry. No more traction for me."

"Seriously, John!" Phil began. "Are you insane? You're taking her to sex shop?"

"You know he's really interested," John whispered to her while Phil continued his sputtered protests liberally spiced by Felix's caustic comments. "He'll hide behind questionnaires and the bad hip excuse unless you become slightly more assertive. Phil's game also, but unless you flat out tell them that you want them in your bed, they won't press the issue, as they think you're too inexperienced."

"But I am," she whispered. "Compared to you three, I am."

"Jemma, life is very short. I know that I could die tomorrow. I have been living with that knowledge for the last twenty five years and I've tried to live each day as it were my last. Dum loquimur, fugerit invida aetas: carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero. While we speak, envious time has already fled. Seize the day, trusting as little as possible in tomorrow."

John Garrett quoting Horace? Really, he **_delighted_** in being utterly underestimated.

"I need to tell them that they're taking me to bed," she realized. "Just flat out tell them that they're doing it."

"Preferably one at a time," John murmured. "The three of us at the same time in the same bed for your first time will prove completely carnally chaotic. We'd need a flight controller, a signalman with flag semaphores and someone directing ground traffic else there will be multiple in-air collisions. Speak your mind, Simmons. You have to, or we will walk all over you. Unintentionally and with sincere regret. You need to put on your big girl pants and tell them what you want."

She inhaled and exhaled, willed herself not to tremble. John gave her a secretive wink and a thumbs up.

"Excuse me," Jemma interrupted Phil and Felix. "Excuse me. I actually came over to inform you three that I have decided to kick your tires as I've grown tired of waiting for you. I've pulled names out of a hat, and the order for tire kicking will be Felix, John and then Phil. Felix, this will be your weekend. John, next weekend and Phil… you'll be the weekend after that. I anticipate that you'll make it quite memorable and romantic."

For a moment there was absolute complete silence.

"And in answer to your question. Yes, I like to cuddle afterwards. I like to be held and talking can be optional. We can have the lights on or off, and you can wear whatever you need in order to feel comfortable. For now, it will just be one of you and one of me, but I plan on having all three of you together at one time later on."


	50. She be but Little, She is Fierce

Saturday morning

"So where are we going?" Jemma asked when Felix and Winston arrived at her door. Felix was looking…cute… in jeans and a t-shirt that hinted at the one tattoo on his arm. Winston also looked adorable as he was freshly groomed and wore his riding goggles.

"Surprise?" was his response as he offered to take her bags.

"Is it a nice surprise like you being such a good dancer?" she teased. She had danced with all three of her boys the previous night at Mrs. Roberts' retirement party. Jemma had quickly realized that while she liked (ok loved) dancing, she needed to take lessons to be as proficient as her boys.

"I was better," he demurred while she laughed.

"Hey, hey, hey! Invite the man in," protested a voice. A non-Scottish voice. Then a Scottish voice added, "We're not letting you jaunt off for a weekend without talking with him."

Jemma turned several shades of pink and she slightly moaned.

"I'm so ready to murder them. The Spanish Inquisition, indeed," she explained. "Or in this case, the Scottish Inquisition."

"As long as I get the comfy chair," he quipped. "Which one is Ximénez and which one is Biggles?"

* * *

Since he was being interrogated, it was only right that he took the comfortable chair. Winston sat next to him, and was not amused with the shenanigans. It was hard to tell due to his eyebrows, but it seemed the Winston was scowling.

"Now, Felix, I hope you don't mind that I wanted to talk to you before you and Jemma go off for a weekend together," Fitz stated. "You know that she's not very experienced when it comes to men. Especially older men. I have a few questions for you, Felix. I hope that you'll be honest in your response."

To her surprise, Felix Blake, the bastard, looked highly amused. Jemma, on the other hand, wish to find a very large hole in which to hide.

"I can assure you that I'm rather experienced with men. Even older men," was Felix's rapid retort. "Do you need help on your relationship with Trip?"

Trip didn't even bother to silence his loud laugh and even Fitz smiled.

"Now, seriously. Your intentions?" Fitz asked.

"Explicit," was Felix's one word response.

Inwardly, Jemma squeed her excitement but outwardly she tried to hide her face in her hands.

"Birth control?" was Fitz's next rapid-fire question.

"Will be utilized," was Felix's curt answer. "You're not becoming an uncle in the near future."

"You hurt her, I'll kill you. Painfully. Slowly," the Scot continued.

"You seem to forget that she put me in the hospital. I required surgery?" Felix reminded Jemma's overprotective BFF. "Traction? Isn't anyone worried about my safety?"

"Speaking of that, how's your life insurance?" Trip asked even while Jemma voiced a loud (and futile) protest.

"Up to date, and maxed out. Winston is the beneficiary," Felix wryly admitted. With a sly glance at Jemma. "It seemed safer that way. And though she be but little, she is **_fierce_**."

A very amused Trip laughed in approval. "You won't win, Fitz. He's quoting Shakespeare."

"I recognized it," protested Fitz. Then in a rather regretful tone, he decided, "Very well. Get off with you two. Try not to get electrocuted this time or dislocate your hip."

He glared at Felix, which was like a small Scottish terrier glaring daggers at the much more threatening Winston.

"I'm thinking perhaps a ruptured appendix," Felix suggested. "Something both life threatening and will require surgery."

* * *

"Oh my God," protested a still crimson Simmons. "I don't know where that came from!"

"Fitz was taking on the role of concerned older male," Felix explained as he carefully backed up the Jeep. "For men, it's a rite of passage. When you take a lady out on a serious date and you meet her parents, Dad usually brings out the shotgun. In his case, he had the night-night gun on display."

"He was adapting the dosage cartridge," protested Jemma.

"And Trip decided to clean his service revolver at the same time? Seriously, trying to scare me," Felix admitted. "Right, Winston?"

The service dog woofed in agreement, even though he was annoyed as since Felix had removed the top on the Jeep, he was required to wear his goggles. The dog thought it made him look less authoritative and more of a doggie doofus.

"You handled that really well," Jemma said. "Surprisingly well."

"I'm not always whimpering in the corner, hugging Winston," protested Felix. "On my good days….I'm like the old Blake."

"I adore the new Blake, Felix, and I didn't mean it like that," she softly protested. "I was embarrassed, you just gave it back to them."

* * *

"Here we are," Felix informed her, as he opened the door to the condo. It had been a lovely ride as Felix had been chatty (and relaxed, not defensive in the slightest) and they had even held hands for a bit.

"Look at that view," Jemma exclaimed. She made approving comments as she explored the condo, admired the view but then her face went flat.

"Two bedrooms?" she asked. She didn't even try to hide her intense disappointment.

He nodded.

"Two bedrooms?" she repeated. Her shoulders slumped and she stopped. She really shouldn't be surprised as Blake had been very careful about being too physical with her. While the other boys had enjoyed kissing (and more while being careful about not going too far), Felix had always been very austere in his affection, as they had only gotten up to hand holding. (when she did a commando affection attack)

"Just in case," he explained. "You have an out. A very comfortable out, as they're both king sized beds. Plus there's a lot of shopping, some museums…"

She said nothing and he swallowed.

"I screwed up, didn't I? I overthought everything? Normal people don't get two bedrooms for a romantic getaway. Especially when it's their first romantic getaway. I knew I should have asked Phil for help… but I wanted to do this myself… Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I…" He was floundering, grasping for any type of support.

Gone was the confidant Felix of earlier, departed for parts unknown. There direct action was required. SNOGGING THERAPY!

"It's very hard to kiss you if you won't stop talking," she interrupted.

He stopped talking, so she took her chance and kissed him.

It wasn't that good, because he wasn't the only nervous one, but when they broke apart, she smiled at him. Deliberately, she stroked his cheek and kept her hand there, so he'd get comfortable with her touching him.

"I've wanted to do that for some time, but you've been terribly strict about not kissing. Therefore, lots of practicing this weekend. A great deal of practicing. And I plan on being in your bed with you tonight and tomorrow. As you know, I don't have a great deal of experience, so that's why I'm glad that I'm here with you."

"John is a lot of fun and Phil's really good," he assured her even as he removed her hand from him face. He didn't let go, instead, he entwined his fingers with hers. In a soft voice, he added, "Have fun with them. Enjoy the experience, because you really need to live before you settle down. Sow your wild oats. Get drunk, get a tattoo or three."

"And what about you?"

"I've gotten drunk and I've gotten tattooed. Fortunately not at the same time because I've been told that leads to major regrets down the road."

"You're the sincere, quiet one of the Three Musketeers. I'm not as quite nervous with you about this step."

"Good thing you pulled my name out of the hat first," he said.

"There was no hat, no pulling of names. I chose the order because if I waited for you three to decide, I'd be menopausal."

"Oh," Felix said. He grimaced before he quipped, "Blunt but true."

"I want to be close to you," she explained. "That's only if you want to be close to me."

He opened his mouth and then quickly shut it.

"Are you… alright?" She asked. Deliberately she squeezed his hand.

"Mind is racing," he admitted.

"What should I do?" she asked.

"Will you… humor me… if I suddenly and completely unexpectedly jump up and down on the bed in giddy delight?" he asked. And he was smiling, a crooked little smirk that made him absolutely shaggable.

She giggled.

"As long as I'm mattress bouncing with you," she said, and he smiled that utterly delicious smile at her.

"I'll need… constant reassurance from you," he explained. "Please don't get angry with me if I start acting… odd…. I'll try very hard to control my ticks."

"Felix, I've been dating you for five months now," Jemma reminded him. "Tick away, if it relaxes you and I'll need reassurance also."

"Why? You're absolutely fucking amazing," he informed her, his voice radiating sincerity.

"I'm a little nervous because I'm really not that experienced," she reminded him.

"Should have kicked Phil's tires first. He's a romantic, and you would have had an incredible time as he would pulled out every trick he knew."

"Felix, I think you forgot that I told you that I picked the order."

"He's capable of being spontaneous, I'm not," he reminded her. "I'm rigid…"

"Hope you are," she quipped. "Rigid, firm, stiff…"

He colored, and then struggled to continue, "Regimented."

"You worry too much," she protested. "Just be Felix. That's enough for me."

"Do you want… to restrain me?" He offered. "If you want to try it, I'll do it for you… I know I'm rather vanilla in my taste. Tell me what you want, as you never filled out the questionnaire. I don't know what you like. I need this to be good for you."

"I just want you to be thorough and meticulous and considerate. However I really want you to kiss me as I know you're a wonderful kisser."

"Shall we kiss then?" he asked.

"You don't have to ask," Jemma reminded him.

"I need you to tell me what you want, it's easier for me that way." He explained. "For today, instruct me. Please."

She hugged him, and he embraced her tightly.

"I want you to pick a bedroom," she informed him. "I want you to lie on top of the covers, and I'll join you in a few minutes."

"Not coming in with me?" he asked hopefully.

"Need to change," she informed him. "Into something I chose specifically with you in mind."

Again with the rare smile, how could she think of anything but how shaggable he was?

"Heading to a room," he quickly announced. "Give me a moment to change into something I chose specifically because… it's comfortable."

He grimaced and she smiled at him.

* * *

Felix Blake switched into a pair of ratty sleep pants (and really, shouldn't he have bought something new? But he liked comfort and broken in and after that one incident in Lisbon he always wore pants to bed. Preferably with pockets) and an old t-shirt. That done, he positioned himself on the bed, and he realized that he was blaking out. Hard. Fast. Furious.

Because the damn bedspread had been put on crooked.

He was about to… He hoped, oh God, how he hoped and how he wanted and how had he, make love to an absolutely beautiful woman, the first time he had been with a woman in almost three years though really Nicolette didn't count because she was no lady. Seriously they were back to being friends, but he held no illusions about her and he wished Sitwell the best of luck and Jemma was nervous and he wanted everything to be perfect, and that meant, he acted NORMALLY, which meant no Flaky Blakey and they had put the bedspread on crooked. And his mind was racing and he knew DAMN WELL that he had turned off the faucet at his apartment as he had made a list and checked everything off when he had completed it that morning.

And after a thorough examination of the quilt, it was far, far worse than he thought. The staff had put the bedspread on straight, the pattern was crooked due to a sloppy manufacturer.

Were the very fates against them?

He was trying to figure out how to process the fact that he was Blaking out over of a misaligned bedspread when he felt Jemma's gentle hand on his back.

"That's a very ugly bedspread," she began.

"I should have picked a condo with prettier bedspreads."

Oh GOOD GOD! HE just did not say that. PATHETIC BLAKE! PATHETIC!

"But the view makes up for it," she protested.

"Yes, beachside," he began and she shushed him.

"I'm talking about your shoulders," she explained. "You always seem restricted in your suits. I didn't realize what lovely shoulders you have and the tats. I never would have believed that Felix Blake had tattoos. I think I'll get you drunk and take you to a tattoo parlor so I can have 'Property of Jemma Simmons' permanently inscribed on your body."

"Just no duck tattoo," he requested. "Winston would laugh."

She hugged him from behind, placing her arms around his midsection.

"Can we fold up the bedspread and put it in a closet? It's too warm for it, anyway, and I really want to snuggle next to you."

He nodded.


	51. Faire l'amour

The offending quilt, guilty of abstracted crimes again patterns everywhere, was neatly folded and placed in a closet.

"Better?" Jemma asked after she securely closed with door with a loud thud.

He nodded with an embarrassed grin. His eyes were closed, and he rubbed them, nervously. When he opened his eyes, he **_finally_** realized what Jemma was wearing. Long, silky robe with long, loose ties, no itty bitty buttons that would cause him to fumble. It covered everything, just about… so it was tantalizing… and soft… clung to the best parts but revealed nothing…

His kinks had been revealed to Duck Mistress Simmons by either Coulson Cayuga Duckling or Garrett Gimbsheimer Duckling.

"Wow," he said. Using his right hand, he popped his jaw off the floor and back into position.

"Like the color?" she asked. She blushed, as well she should as he was acting like a hormonal teen ager.

"Favorite," he admitted.

"I notice that you usually wear ties that have this color in them," she confessed. "Plus, I asked Phil."

"He _knew_?" He couldn't hide his doubt.

She smiled the bright happy Jemma Simmons that he adored, "He had no idea."

"Typical," admitted Felix with a roll of his eyes. "Anyway, I had my lab work done yesterday. I'm clean so… I have rubbers if you want me to use them. But…if you're on the pill?"

She blinked and then she nervously giggled.

"You want romantic, get Phil. You want someone to buy out the clearance sex-tion of a sex shop, you take John," he admitted. "You want someone to make sure you don't get up the duff the first time, you get Felix. Because you shouldn't rush into it, Repopulation of American Act be damned. We don't have a house yet, and… you don't know our quirks yet. Phil snores due to his deviated septum, John spreads out when he sleeps, when I sleep, sometimes I accidently kick…. And Winston… Winston hogs the pillows."

She put her forefinger on his mouth. He kissed it and then removed it from his mouth.

"In this, I'm just the drone, and you're the Queen Bee. You make decisions," he stated.

"Are you three planning on feeding me royal jelly and keeping me pregnant?" she mocked protested.

He snapped his fingers and pointed at her. "Knew I forgot something. The royal jelly! I could pick up strawberries if you want instead, my Queen."

His tone was light, flirtatious but after he had snapped his fingers, his right hand had latched onto left wrist as though to stop it from acting out. Jemma noticed that his smile was slightly forced and his shoulders were tense.

"Seriously, don't rush into parenthood. You've already got three of us to paper train," he joked. "Thank God, Winston is house trained."

He wasn't joking. Not really, he was quite serious but he attempted to seem flippant.

"Yes, I think I'd like to take dance lessons with you," she admitted.

He titled his head at her, as though confused. "Lost me there," he finally admitted. "You did fine with the tried and true 'hug and sway'."

Last night had been utterly delectable, as she had slow danced with all her boys, held all improperly close and snug against them…and… and… she had even gotten Skye a dance with Felix.

"It will be hard to dance close with a belly in the way," she murmured.

His left arm relaxed enough so his right hand released it. "I'll try to stay trim for you. I'll also talk to the rest of the crew to make sure we keep up on our abdominal workouts."

"No, me," she teased. "I was quite jealous that you and Nikki were able to samba."

"I'm nowhere as good as I used to be. When we were engaged, we took some lessons. Our first dance, we were gonna surprise everyone …" He grimaced a smile and she kissed him. Long, slow and utterly deliberately.

"Teach me how to dance," she requested.

"Ok," he said, as he pulled her closer to him. "I put my hand on your hip like so."

"In bed, Felix," she protested.

"Ohhhh."

* * *

Really, Skye had tried to prepare Jemma for what might happen between her and her boys. The two women had a girls' night together, and Skye had downloaded porn that was for woman by woman, blah blah blah. The women had been horribly plasticy and athletic and limber while the men had been built and huge and… possessing extremely lithe hips. And really, it would be horrifying if she dislocated Felix's hip during a moment of uncontrolled passion. Now that it was ACTUALLY HAPPENING, Jemma realized that she should never have watched Skye's smut as what was occurring between Felix and her was horribly awkward and tentative. Because she kept thinking of what she should be doing, how she should be touching him, rather than doing what she was comfortable; instead of just enjoying the moment. She didn't want to disappoint him, not like she had Avery.

She wished to be bold and audacious rather than timid.

What Simmons really desired was to be was to be an utterly irresistible combination of Garrett's erotic extroversion, Phil's experience and to possess hips that pivoted like Nicolette's hips. (Boobs like Nikki would have been nice, but God had only two days to whip her into shape, not a week to rebuild her into a sexkitten).

She and Felix bumped noses when they kissed. Really, she had never thought of the necessity of planning trajectory of one's nose when one's eyes were shut.

"Oww!" he protested after they bumped noses AGAIN.

Finally, Felix took her hand and squeezed it.

"This isn't working," he admitted. "Stop, stop, stop."

She withdrew into herself and he exhaled. Slowly.

"Lay back," he requested. "Let me handle this, ok? I'm truly terrified you're going to put me into traction again, especially after that last amphibious maneuver. You've been watching porn, haven't you? Sheer, unadulterated porn, Jemma."

He smiled at her, a gentle warm smile and he shook his head.

"Porn can be… fun…" he admitted. "But it also leads to unreasonable expectations on your part. I can't move like they can, else I risk popping out my hip."

"I want it to be good for you," she protested.

He slid one hand downwards and stopped. With a sly smile, he pulled at her belt to remove it. That done, he opened her robe with a very gentle touch. "Trust me, that outfit… very good for me. You, lying next to me in bed… unbelievably good for me."

Deliberately, he leaned over her and place a kiss between her breasts. He pulled away, with a very wolfish grin.

"Very, very good for me, so now… hand," he requested.

"Hand?" she repeated.

"Hand," he repeated as he held out his left hand. "Right hand please."

She entwined her fingers with him, and he smiled once more at her. "I should warn you," he said in that low rumbly voice of his.

"You're about to ravage me?" she asked. Far too hopefully.

He bit his lip and tried not to laugh, but failed. "No, nothing that good, I'm afraid. I believe that John has planned some sort of divine retribution for the early morning guitar concert at the cape. However, I will not let that distract me from the mission at hand."

He kissed her slowly and leisurely. When they broke apart, as well, she needed air!, Felix whispered, "We're taking this slowly. No porn acrobatics, just… a deliberate and unhurried seduction."

And he kissed her again even while his free hand stroked her. Carefully. Expertly.

* * *

"Four," she delightedly informed him some time later. Just in case he wasn't good with higher math. "FOUR."

"Are you falling asleep on me?" he rumbled.

"Four," she repeated in blissful contentment even as she snuggled closer to him. "Four."

"You wanted three, and I always compulsively, obsessively aim to overachieve," he reminded her. "Now, if you don't mind, roll towards me."

There was some awkwardness as he positioned his leg just so and then they both embraced. He guided her and then his expression changed… his eyes closed and his mouth was in a perfect "O".

"Are you pain?" she asked.

"No…" he said. "Most assuredly not. Feels very… very nice… Just hold me…"

She held Blake as tightly as she dared, heard his breath quicken, felt his body tremble and move... just so carefully.... then he loudly exhaled. His breathing slowed as she continued to embrace him.

"I love you," she whispered even as Felix seemed so far, far away in his own head at that moment. "I need you to be believe that."


	52. Vanilla Ice Cream

He held her tightly against him until he was 'back' from his out of body experience and then he loosened his grasp. Tenderly, he rolled her onto her back even while he kissed her. His kisses were slow, sated…almost nibbles. When they broke apart, he hesitantly smiled at her.

Because while she had been overwhelmed by such base thoughts as "OmigodthisfeelsabsolutelyamazingIwouldhavebangedhiminhishospitalbedREPEATEDLYifIonlyhadonlyknownthathewasaSexGod…" Felix had been dealing with his own insecurities.

"I wasn't too…" he stopped and grimaced. "I wasn't too **_enthusiastic_** at the end? I worried since you haven't been… I didn't want to leave you sore."

"You were amazing," she insisted. "Far better than my fantasies. Next time, though take off all your clothes."

Felix had kept himself clothed except for the final part. He had pulled down his sleep pants slightly and that had been it!

"I need to see your tattoos, so I can plan where I'm branding you," she decided. "Your surgical scars are part of who you are, so please don't hide them."

That earned a head nod, which meant, 'hell fucking no', she realized but she planned on getting him starkers by the end of their weekend together. Even if she did a commando in the shower. He positioned himself so he was comfortable and then she pounced. Carefully. Which meant that she snuggled close to him so she was resting her head on his shoulder.

"Are you part cat?" He quipped even as she reached for the remote to turn on the overhead fan. That accomplished, she pulled the sheets over her. Fortunately, they were a nice safe blue.

_Felix likes to sleep with a fan on_ , she remembered. _He needs to feel the breeze so if he wakes up in the dark, he knows that he isn't trapped._

"How was it for you?" she asked.

"Really nice," he said.

"Nice," was her murmured protest. "I could have done more…"

"This weekend, you just need to give me constant reassurances about how fantastic and skilled I am," he retorted. "You don't need to give me a standing ovation, but I really enjoy those little noises you make when you come…I hope to hear more of that this weekend."

She blushed and tried to hide underneath the sheets.

"Actually, I'm not hoping," he continued. "I want to hear more, therefore there will be a ninety seven page questionnaire that you will need to fill out. Let me get it for you."

She came up for air when he was reaching for something under the pillow. He pulled it out and handed it to her. It was a small box and he put it in her hands.

"That's not a questionnaire," she stated.

"You are the smartest biochemist of your age," he admitted.

"Oh dear God, you are NOT Remus Lupin, as that makes John, Sirius and Phil is JAMES!"

"Could you possibly open it, and we will can discuss Harry Potter later?" he requested. "Though Winston believes he's PadFoot."

"It's not a ring, is it?" she asked.

"No," he protested. "I thought that since this was our first together, I'd like to get you something. However, you being a thoroughly modern and exasperating biochemist…" He placed his hand on the box and she pulled it towards her.

"Opening!" she promised and then she stopped. "It's not a car key, is it? Because I won't play **_that_** game. I won't. You don't need to bribe me, Felix."

He slumped and sighed. "Seriously, you make it impossible to be romantic. I need to warn the others."

"A car is not romantic," she protested.

"Not telling Lola!" he inserted.

"Not when it's being used as a bribe," she continued.

"That box doesn't look like it could fit a car key. A key fob, maybe," he offered. "However, since you're too busy telling me what it can't be instead of opening it – how about I just give this to Mary Sue instead. In recognition of her learning how to make coffee without necessitating the fire department be dispatched?"

He put his hand on the box, and pulled it toward him. She didn't let go, and they just stared at each, with Blake looking amused.

"No," she protested. "There will be no flirtation with Skye until I'm absolutely convinced that you're mine."

"I am yours. Completely and utterly. Mary Sue…" he began.

"Skye…" she interrupted.

"Mary Sue is nothing to me. She is my assistant, nothing more." He said it with complete sincerity so no doubt he believed it, but … Simmons was beginning to understand him. Felix was fond of Skye, in an exasperated way but he would never admit it. At least not for years upon years upon years.

"Box," she stated as somehow Blake had gotten his present back. "I demand my present, knave."

"I'm fifty," he reminded her. "Gave you **_four_** , that's all for now. I need to recover."

Deliberately, he put the pillow over his head and mock snored. She poked him, and he handed over the box. Gleefully, as what girl didn't like presents, she opened the neatly wrapped box to discover…

"Earrings?" she asked. Small, delicate silver hoops that sparkled and glittered and she smiled.

"Thought they'd look nice when you pull your hair back," he explained. "You need to tell me what type of jewelry you like."

"You've done wonderfully so far," she insisted, even as she put in the earrings. She pulled her hair back to model them for Felix who nodded. "I get so many compliments on the necklace you gave me. However, you don't have to buy me presents."

"It's part of being in a relationship," he informed her. "I buy you pretty things, you wear them. They're not bribes, they're gifts because I want to give them to you."

* * *

To Jemma's delight, they made love repeatedly during the weekend with each experience under Felix's expert tutelage (and she tried not to blush when she mentally put it THAT way) becoming even more mind-blowing. They even walked the boardwalk, hand in hand, a simple gesture that Jemma found almost as intimate as love making, because it was the reticent FELIX who had taken her hand.

And he had won her a bear, a big three foot stuffed bear that he won at a carnival game because of his sharp shooting ability. She had wanted to try the game for laughs, had lost horribly and he had slapped down ten dollars. To the carnies' surprise, Felix had won the bear by performing an almost impossible task of hitting a small star on a rotating and gyrating target. That done, easily, he was about to leave when he realized that a little girl was staring at him, completely agog at his skill.

"Wow," she said. "I want a bear like that."

"Practice," he informed her. "Let me see you shoot."

She aimed, her technique fair, but no match for the odds-stacked-against-her carnie game. Felix helped position her and squeezed the trigger, so she was able to win the same prize. Mission Completed, Felix X. Blake was henceforth Banned for Life from that Booth and ALL of the SURROUNDING BOOTHS, the young girl's prize obtained when she realized that her parents were lost.

Her lips quivered and her bear became quite utterly soggy.

Felix knelt down to her level and he introduced Winston to her. "I'm a cop," he explained to the little girl as he displayed his badge. "This is Winston, this is Jemma and I'm Felix. Let's go get you found. Hand."

Alas, she couldn't handle her parents being lost, having a large bear to oversee and hand holding, Felix quickly discovered. That meant Felix went to Plan B. Ice cream to stop the girl (and possibly Felix?) from hysterical sobbing, and a phone call to the local police department which fortunately had an officer or three patrolling the boardwalk. Anita's mother had already reported her missing and the mother and daughter (and bear) were soon reunited.

"Ice cream?" Jemma murmured at Blake as she had watched events unfold to get a grasp of his parenting style. It seemed that he was an ice cream type dad. "Her chin quivered and you bought her an ice cream cone."

"There was no family resemblance, and I did not want to be accused of child kidnapping, which was likely if she began to wail and scream for her Mamacita and her Abuelita." Felix protested.

"I wonder what would happen if I quiver my lip?" Jemma asked.

He leaned over and whispered in her ear. Her jaw dropped (no quivering, she realized, just a jaw drop). It was explicit, it was extremely dirty and rather erotic especially as it was the thorough Felix who was meticulously detailing every single bit and Avery had never, ever EVER gotten close to what Felix offered though Cosmo and Skye both claimed the experience was beyond wonderful. Then Felix the bastard took his ice cream cone and licked it.

And a long twirl of the cone that had Jemma Simmons blushing especially when he finished his sensual swirl by nibbling at the edge of his cone.

"I'd need to shower first," he admitted. "Brush my teeth. Unless you want to save yourself for John. He's really oral. Phil's rather…. Verbal… also. They both like… ice cream."

"Do you want me to… lick your cone?" she asked. "When you lick mine?"

He tilted his cone towards her and she licked it. Nowhere as suggestively as he had, she realized, but she tried. Perhaps points would be given for enthusiasm.

"Vanilla," he admitted. "Very, very safe. Respectable. When you grow weary of vanilla, you can try one of the other thirty odd flavors. However since this is the first time you've had ice cream with me, stay with vanilla."

"But I want hot fudge and whipped cream," she protested.

"Not on my ice cream cone," he retorted, which left Simmons, mouth agape in stunned silence. "Jemma, you don't get it. Do you? You've gotten behind my walls… I… trust you… so I can… be like this. I tried to keep you out, ran for my life but you managed to tag me and bag me. You do realize, that you could totally fuck me over and destroy me…. because I've let you in."

She didn't know what to say. Didn't want to promise him that she'd never hurt him, because... she was still learning the enigma known as Felix.

"Can we shower together?" she asked.

He nodded.

* * *

"Definitely need rainhead shower heads, and body jets," he admitted as he watched her climb back into their bed. "And the hand held wand was fun, too. You comfortable?"

She nodded, and he tapped her hand. "Nervous?"

Another more vigorous head nod was his answer and he kissed her cheek. "Slow, carefully, and gently. If for any reason you want to stop, you just say it. Deal?"

Another head nod and he tapped her mouth gently with his fingers. "I need you to say it."

"If I want to stop, I'll tell you," she said.

"And I will stop immediately. I will start at the top, work my way down, end up in the middle and I'll try to make it really good. I want to try and edge it." The way his voice rumbled made her inside tremble in delight and… oh God, she hoped Skye was right about what was about to happen!

"Edge it?" she asked.

"Bring you close, but not too close, a few times." He then leaned over her and gave her a slow, teasing kiss. "Teasing can be fun."

"I'll remember that when I'm in charge," she weakly protested while his lips moved down to her neck.

"Please, you'll get distracted by the sights," he protested. "You're too new to this to have any type of patience."

"Will not…" she gasped as his lips found a very sensitive part of her anatomy. He didn't protest, instead he rather thoroughly lavished a great deal of attention on her right earlobe which had her squirming in absolute delight.

"Oh bugger, I think you're right," she admitted when he lovingly attacked her left earlobe.

* * *

After a very long, exhausting weekend, it wasn't a big surprise that Jemma fell asleep on the drive home. In fact, they had barely gotten onto the interstate when she was lightly snoring. Felix proudly smiled and Winston happily wagged his tail. The three foot stuffed bear, wisely, said nothing. Felix kept his radio off, so she could sleep and he drove back to her apartment in contented silence.

Somehow he had managed to survive the weekend, SOLO, with Simmons without requiring him to brandish his insurance cards. Perhaps she wouldn't kill him after all. (Accidentally, naturally).


	53. Morning After

Monday morning

John Garrett noisily exhaled which earned him an amused look from Phil Coulson. He put his phone down on the bureau and crunched his pillow so he was comfortable.

"I'm worried," he admitted as he slunk back into the bed.

"You're jealous, admit it," catcalled Phil.

"I've tagged his insurance card, as of five minutes ago, it hasn't been utilized in New York or any of the surrounding states. Do you think she killed him during sex? Accidentally? I can imagine her calling Blue Skies looking for help."

Phil Coulson sat up in bed, and deliberately draped the sheets around his middle. "Now, I'm jealous." In a simpering tone, he continued, "Honey, why can't you focus on me? It's our first time in months and you're **_distracted_**. By HIM. However, I'm sure she didn't kill him, because I have his name tagged in case it appears on a police blotter anywhere in the country. Pretty good chance that if she killed him, his name would show up and trigger an alert."

"SO! You were worried also," Garrett stated. "As well we should be, as Jemma put him in traction and he electrocuted himself. Plus the fact the two of them can't seem to be in the same room together without one of us needing to referee."

"Actually, you put him in traction as you tackled him and he electrocuted himself to jumpstart your bots," Phil reminded him which John, naturally, ignored.

"And she gave us **_permission_** before she left. Permission. Like… we needed it…" John sighed even though Jemma's airily given permission of 'be naughty and tell me all about it when I come back' had relieved both men of feeling guilty for sharing a bed again. For the record, they wouldn't have done a darn thing if she hadn't kiss them both and ordered them to have fun. "Is this what it's gonna be like?"

"Gonna get worse once we all move in together," Phil mildly stated as he knew John very well.

"It's gonna be a lot of fun once she has us housebroken," he conceded. "Though questions abound."

"I know I shouldn't ask this, but what questions are bounding in your head, John?" Phil asked.

"How is she deciding on the nightly arrangements?" John questioned.

NIGHTLY ARRANGEMENTS, mouthed a disbelieving Phil.

"I mean, will it be one at a time; you know; Felix, John, Phil… night off. Sorry, alphabetical there, Phil. Or will it be Felix, John, Phil, Felix-John, Felix-Phil, John-Phil and then everybody at the same time? Are we living in the same house, or are we having like a compound and she goes from house to house every night? I watched a show on TV…." He explained.

"Please do not tell me it's the one where the lady's uterus will fall out if she sneezes too hard as she's had twenty eight kids and all the girls wear dresses from the 1800's?" Phil protested. He hated to admit it but he watched the "Quiverful Womb" show religiously. It was like watching a bad train wreck. You couldn't turn away but you hated yourself for watching.

"No, this guy had three wives, and the wives all hated each other because they were jealous. And he ended up dying because…" John slowed down as though loathe to admit the cause of demise.

"Sexual exhaustion?" Phil prompted.

"No, because he sodded some guy's lawn," John explained.

Phil just shot John Garrett a "WTF" look.

"I found it a rather stupid, anticlimactic ending," John easily agreed.

"John, you hate lawn work which is why you've never lived anyplace that requires you to do your own lawn. You're safe, I promise you. I'm assuming that it will run much like it does now. Each have our separate bedrooms and … there will be the master bedroom," Phil paused as he wasn't sure how it would work as it had been YEARS,…. YEARS… since he had read **_Time Enough for Love_** with anything less than a jaundiced eye. "Good God, I don't know how is supposed to work. Must I remind you that you LAUGHED at Felix when he first questioned this insanity?"

John, being on a roll, merrily continued down the path of self-destruction.

"Think about it, that means, five bedrooms, minimum, and then once the kids show up, if they show up, where are we putting them? Are we putting them in dormitories? How we are planning on paying for this? Get an inlaw suite for Blue Skies so we can have rent coming in? Perhaps a carriage house so we can rent out to Trip and Fitz? And Phil, seriously, what's really bothering you?" John asked.

"My tactile anesthesia hasn't completely resolved itself," Phil admitted. "I'm worried about what might happen when it's my weekend. Plus, this is just insanity. Complete and utter insanity."

"Isn't it though? But it's fun… and you feel more alive than you have in years. As for bedtime fun, you did really well last night," Garrett assured him. "Though it's been a while for both of us, so points will be deducted for making a mess."

"You're built like a bulldog, Jemma is more a whippet," Phil admitted. "I'm worried that I might hurt her accidentally."

"Impossible," was Garrett's firm opinion. "Besides, you might not get a chance. Felix got there first and Simmons might decide to just have him as her boy toy. I wonder how the weekend went. You know, it's … six am, why don't I call?"

"JOHN!" sputtered Phil. Who, while he verbally protested, did not take the phone away from John.

"One ringie dingie, two ringie dingie, three ringie dingie… Good morning this is the Jemma Elizabeth Simmons wake up call. Are you awake?" John asked. "You sound exhausted? And you slept through your alarm? Good thing I called then, so details, Jemma."

He nodded his head for a bit and then grinned. "No, no, no, I wouldn't anticipate that you'd share details about our weekend with the guys either, unless you feel the need to brag about…. Felix?" He put a lilt in his voice when he said Felix and his grin grew broader. "No, no… that would be horribly embarrassing for poor Felix."

Again with the lilt.

"Well, see you soon," he said.

He clicked off the phone and he shook his head.

"That must have been some weekend as she's gushing over Felix. She even adds that little lilt in her voice when she gets face to face to a handsome man for the first time and she's fancying him. You know, she did it with Jasper and Ward when she first met him. Calling Felix," John announced as he put his phone on speaker.

"What the fuck do you want, asshole?" was a gravelly voice that sounded like Felix Blake talking into his pillow.

"We wanted to find out if you had been admitted to the hospital and if you need spare clothes? Someone to walk Winston?" John asked. "Power of attorney? Someone to make your life support decisions? Funeral arrangements?"

"I survived unharmed," the voice dryly admitted.

"How?" was the next question from John.

"If you keep her in a state of sexual bliss, she doesn't have a chance to throw a bowling ball," admitted Felix. "After the few orgasms…"

"The first FEW?" John repeated. "How many **_exactly_**? Is that why her voice held such a lovely lilt whenever she said your name? Come on, confess. Phil and I need to know!"

"Fuck off, asshole."

The call disconnected and John leaned back into the bed.

"I've forgotten how bad tempered Blake can be when he doesn't get eight hours of shut eye," John stated. "I'm thinking our boy had a sleep over."

* * *

"Well, that wakeup was better than a rock concert," Jemma laughingly admitted. "Though you **_will_** pay for the comment regarding sexual bliss and bowling balls, Felix."

"I'll make you the best cup of coffee you ever had," Felix offered.

Her expressive nose wrinkled in distaste.

"I bought tea leaves but my roommate finished it the last time you were here. Roomie forgot to put it on the shopping list." Blake's attempt at excusing himself made Jemma laugh.

"Shopping list?" she asked.

"I do coupons also," he admitted. "One time I got two fifty worth of stuff for seventy five, so I considered it a win. I was able to buy Winston a new bed so he was appreciative."

She giggled.

"Someone has to be financially responsible in this relationship," he continued. "So, can you say my name again?"

"Felix?" she said and then she repeated it deliberately, "Felix, Felix, FELIX."

"You do have a lovely lilt when you say my name," he admitted with a sly smile. "It's got the same lilt when you came face to face to Tripp wearing his jammer swim suit. I truly feared you had a spoon in your hand."

"I don't understand," she admitted.

"I feared that you would eat him like a sundae," he teased.

"I prefer ice cream cones," she teased back and then she kissed him. When they broke apart, she murmured happily and snuggled closer. "You're really quite different this weekend. I don't mean it in a bad way."

"I know you don't, however, I will worry," he admitted. "I fear you like me only for my penis."

" ** _Love_** ," she interrupted. "Your incredible hands, your mouth, your sense of humor, dry though it may be…"

"Coming from a Brit, that's **_priceless_** ," he interrupted.

"Your incredible eyes and most importantly, you. Though I have absolutely no complaints about your penis as it gifted me with hours upon hours of exquisite ecstasy this weekend." There, she had told him that she loved him TWICE (and yes, she did though it didn't mean that he wasn't an exasperating git). He hadn't returned the sentiment **_verbally_** but he had held her hand in a public space. Baby steps, she reminded herself, as he had been deeply hurt by those he had trusted and loved (and she had wiggled her way behind his walls, he just needed to become comfortable with the fact that she was there, loving him).

Though her last compliment had made him blush.

"Good thing you're doing the pair and a spare, that way you can put me on the DL when I return back to my norm," he admitted, while he smiled that twisted little grin where he was being particularly wicked. "So, you grab the shower and I'll make breakfast. You up for scrambled eggs and an English muffin? Cheerios? Isn't that British? Pip, Pip, cheerios?"

She sat up and glared daggers at a very much non-threatened Felix Blake.

"Those are not English muffins," she protested. "There's nothing truly English about them."

"Yogurt then." He decided.

* * *

To her surprise, by the time she had gotten showered and she had padded into the kitchen, wearing one of his motorcycle t-shirts and a too large pair of sweats, Felix had already showered and dressed for work. He was also putting the final touches on a complete English breakfast. Real British back bacon, grilled mushrooms and tomatoes and… tea… REAL TEA.

"Rashers?" she asked in true disbelief. "Real tea? How? With the shortage?"

"I traded a few favors," was all he admitted which earned him a big kiss. "Hey! Hey! You'll get my suit wet."

* * *

When she entered her lab, (Early), Jemma Simmons was horrified to realize that Fitz, Trip and Skye were there, all plainly wondering how her weekend went. They meant well, but really, she didn't want to share too much information about the introspective Felix.

"She's rather **_bouncy_** ," Trip announced.

"She's glowing, which means… shagged all weekend did you?" Fitz asked. "About bloody time, Jemma."

"Do we need to send flowers to Agent Blake? I could send him a blueberry coffee cake, too," offered Skye.

"Seriously, you still call him Agent Blake?" Fitz murmured.

"Yes," Skye sadly admitted.

"I have work to attend to," protested a very prim Jemma Simmons. "I am not describing my weekend in any detail except for this. Mindblowing. And that is ALL you will ever get from me."

She bounced away, her curly hair swinging and the three Musketeers (junior) stared at each other.

"Dear God," Trip began.

"I'll be staring at his crotch from now on," admitted Fitz. "Wondering about the magic in his wand, if that is any indication of his skill. She never acted like that with her ex. She was usually very withdrawn after her time with him."

"Hydra Boy didn't treat her well," Trip announced. "My man, Felix apparently did."

"You call him Felix also?" Skye whined.

* * *

Felix returned to his office to discover the coffee clutch was already in the office. Except there was a new addition to the team, Jasper Sitwell.

"Welcome to the insanity," Felix dryly remarked as Phil handed him his cup of coffee. Perfectly brewed.

"Actually I was hoping to talk to you in private, but they were already here," admitted Jasper.

"Step into my office," Felix decided.

The two agents walked into his office and Felix closed the door. He put on his best Not-Impressed Look and Jasper's grin faded.

"IWantToLetYouKnowThatI'mInterestedinNicoletteAndIhopeIt'sOKwithYou?" Jasper blurted.

"Hurt her and they will never, ever find your body," Felix stated in his most intimidating tone.

"Yes, Sir!" Jasper instinctively responded.

* * *

Jemma returned to her office and discovered that there was a small spray of flowers. From Felix, naturally so she grinned wildly and bounced in her chair as she was so giddy! He was such a romantic. She opened her email and clicked on one from John.

"Not telling you anything." She giggled. "Naughty boy."

**_Doc_ **

**_Attached find the motorcycle permit requirements for New York State. Time to take a ride of the wild side and get your license. Thursday lunchtime I'll take you to the Department of Motor Vehicles office and we can get your permit then._ **

**_John_ **

**_PS don't tell Felix or Phil, it's be a surprise when you drive up on your Harley. So this weekend, motorcycles and Babe in Toyland…. So prepare for a ride on the wild side!_ **

**_PS wear your leathers!_ **

**"** Motorcycle license?" squeaked Simmons.


	54. Jemma's Lessons Continue

"John," Felix intoned from his computer. John noticed that Blake was wearing his bill-paying glasses, his very disgusted accountant face and there was a stack of papers on the desk. "What did you buy from Skull's motorcycle shop?"

"Some parts for my Harley," John admitted. Then as an afterthought, "Oh, and I thought Jemma needed to take some more safety in motorcycle classes. They are little pricey, but one really can't put a price on Jemma's personal safety."

Phil coughed hard, nearly spitting out the beer he had been trying to imbibe.

"This is over ten thousand dollars, John," protested Blake. "On your AMEX, John. I thought we had discussed your need to run large purchases past me before you whipped out your card."

"Felix, Skull is giving her some 1:1 classes about how to handle a bike crash. Say, one day, she's riding pillion on your bike."

An unlikely occurrence, John knew, as Felix only permitted Phil or Winston to ride pillion. Plus the innocent look on Garrett's face made Phil inwardly sigh.

"Not happening in my lifetime," Blake inserted. "I think the only thing that would be scarier than that, is Jemma Simmons having her own license and her own bike."

John grimaced and Phil quietly sighed once more as he had a bad feeling that John was deliberately concealing what the purchase had been. He had the feeling that it had at least two wheels and a great deal of chrome. And it wasn't a 1976 Dodge Dart.

"She's riding pillion on MY BIKE, then," John continued. "And then a big black bear…"

"Not the bear story again," protested Felix and Phil in perfect unison.

"A big black bear lumbers out in the middle of the road and I have to put the bike down. HARD. Now I understand that Jemma will be protected by the really expensive Skull suit that YOU bought her, but I thought I could pay for some safety classes. I understand that you might like me not to do that, as well, you bought her the Skull Suit, that pretty necklace and those earrings and I only have been able to buy her DINNER…."

John was hitting Felix' pressure point about Felix's generosity.

The glasses came off as Blake protested, "That suit was from all of us as we wanted to keep her safe."

"You bought it, you paid for it, not me. Not Phil. I failed to notice a suitable withdraw from my accounts to help pay for it. Did you notice a withdrawal from your account, Phil?" John asked.

"No," Phil admitted.

"You never look at your finances," protested Blake. "You don't even know how much you have."

"I have enough to pay for the classes, I'm sure. So pretty much, Phil, it's like this. **_Felix_** can buy whatever he wants for Jemma…." John paused as Felix flinched. "And I can't ensure her safety by buying some 1:1 quality time with the best biker I know. When she's on a bike, I want to be comfortable knowing that she has the skill set required."

Phil noticed that John didn't say 'when she is riding on a bike'.

A defeated Felix capitulated (naturally), and he submitted payment for John's bill.

"No more large purchases," Felix tersely reminded John. "We need to buy a house, and your desire for open granite countertops and spacious walk in closets for your ninety five turtlenecks will be costly. Speaking of which, I'm rerunning your credit reports to see about financing."

"Thanks, Dad!" John quipped as he meandered away, content in his 'shock and awe' victory. "I'd like a bathroom with a shower that fit nine people in it also."

Felix inhaled and exhaled slowly, repeatedly and then he spoke in a very controlled tone after John had left the room.

"I really hate John when he manipulates me like that. I am right now bitterly regretting electrocuting myself to save his sorry ass," Felix admitted. He exhaled and inhaled for a bit and then he spoke again in a more normal timbre "What is done is done. Any idea what bike did he buy her? I hope it's not second hand. And how much do you think we should increase our life insurance?"

"I don't know," Phil admitted. "Do you think we should double it?"

"I'll call Human Resources and let you know how much it will cost. At least, John Skulimowski is teaching her as the very thought of John teaching her… makes my hip hurt. I'll call Skull and find out what Garrett bought and what Skull can add to it to make it safer for the world as a whole. And yes, I'll pay for that."

"Perhaps, he could put Jemma and her motorcycle in a gigantic gerbil ball," Phil suggested. When that failed to earn him even a smile, Phil walked over to Felix. "You ok?"

"He's gonna be the fun one," Felix stated in a defeated tone. "If there are children born from this insanity, John will be the fun dad, and I'll be… the non-fun one… All the little ducklings will follow him around as he'll teach them about explosions and… fire… and… I'll be the lonely one sitting on the sidelines… trying to make sure no one sets themselves on fire, making sure the bills are paid so the pond doesn't get repossessed and turned into condos."

Hesitantly, Phil placed his hands on Felix's neck.

"You're tense," Phil murmured. "Do you want me to massage your back?"

"Thanks, I'm just achy today. Weather change, I'm predicting."

Phil gently massaged Felix's neck and shoulders and he felt… **_felt_** … Felix's muscular tension ease.

"Phil?" Felix murmured.

"Yes?"

"I didn't get a chance to tell you, but I told John. Simmons… Jemma… really enjoyed oral sex. She was really nervous… it was rather… nice… for me to be able to give her a good experience. She just… it was obvious that Avery never cared what she got out of it… It was… nice… really nice…" Felix repeated himself and then sighed.

"Lean forward," Phil requested as he used the heel of his hand to apply a little more pressure. "Let me know if this is too much."

"She's really inexperienced, Phil," Blake explained. "I don't think you know how inexperienced she is."

"I know," Phil demurred as he continued to massage Blake's shoulders.

"She told me that she loved me," Blake admitted with a sad laugh. He choked out that confession, as though he was afraid of his response, as though he feared that instead of laughing, he might cry. Instead, with a noticeable effort at remaining composed, he put away Garrett's financial forms and he pulled out some housing specs.

"And you said?" Phil asked. He kept his tone non-judgmental as he felt Felix tense.

"Nothing," Felix softly admitted. "I had just… and you know how I am afterwards…. Lost in my own head."

"I remember the first time," Phil admitted with a dry laugh. "You went so inward that Garrett thought we broke you."

"You put a shattered man back together that night, brother. I wish I was normal," Felix reluctantly confessed. "I fear that I will fuck this up. There's some much that needs to be done, and done correctly. The house; Garrett's just completely out of control. He wants an in-law suite because Mrs. Lopez is considering moving down south with her daughter, so Skye will be back in the van again if she doesn't have a place to stay. He also suggested a garage apartment for Trip and Fitz. And… I need this house to be better than where I grew up."

Living in a small apartment with an alcoholic father.

Phil leaned over Felix's shoulder, reviewed the floor plans and whistled, "Those are a far cry from it."

"I just don't know how we can afford it," admitted Felix.

* * *

"Hey, Doc!" John Garrett warmly greeted Jemma Simmons. He leaned down to embrace her. She shrieked slightly when he picked her up, twirled her around and soundly kissed her. Then he put her down gently, "I just love a girl in leather. Are you ready to learn how to ride?"

Jemma smiled and she whispered, "I don't know. Are you sure this is a good idea. Isn't it a little dangerous?"

"That's why you should do it," John insisted with a smile. "Felix and I both regularly ride our bikes. Phil has a license, so if you don't get a license, Winston has to stay home because there's no space on Felix's bike for him." John then escorted her to his bike.

"So why doesn't Phil get his own bike?" Jemma asked. "It doesn't make any sense why my lack of licensure is preventing Winston from riding along."

"Lola," explained John. "She's very, very jealous. You're lucky she likes you."

Jemma nodded her head.

"Are you really sure about this?" Jemma repeated. "I don't have to go on the bike rides with you four. I could stay home. You know, you could have a little time together with the boys. I'll stay home, do something safe. Besides, there's no way I could learn to drive on your bike. It's too big for me to handle."

John Garrett ceased chattering and he leaned down to her. In a loud whisper he informed her, "I may trust you with my penis later tonight, but my bike is another thing altogether."

He smiled and laughed while a shocked Jemma Simmons pointed her finger at him.

"You're WICKED," she insisted. "Horrid!"

"That's why you love me, admit it," he grinned.

"I do," she softly admitted. "What it say about me, I'm afraid to guess. I do love you."

"I know," he assured her. Then when he realized that she was quite displeased with his flippancy, he took her hands and squeezed them. Gently. "I love you too, Simmons. I really enjoy riding my bike and I want to share that with you. I also bought you a bike."

"What?" she protested.

"You won't get it until after you pass your license. I've rented a bike from Skull and he'll be teaching you."

"Ohmy," she whispered. She might have said far, far worse when she realized that not only was Skull teaching how to drive, but also Timothy Aloysius Cadwallader "Dum Dum" Dugan. She would never admit that she could swear like that, but truly, she only saved it for special occasions.


	55. Trikes and Toddler Trepidations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First new chapter after the accidental deletion.

JEMMA SIMMONS AND THE MOTORCYCLE LESSON

“Phil called,” John ‘Skull’ Skulimowski tersely informed Garrett even while the former SHIELD agent and current owner of a cycle shop rechecked the trike. “Wanted specs on the bike you bought and information on Jemma’s training. I do not want to get involved with your shenanigans, Garrett.”

Garrett grimaced and Skull shook his head.

“I’ll be watching, but at a distance. Don’t get nervous, as Phil and Felix will be there,” he explained.

“There won’t be a row over this, will it?” Jemma whispered.

“I didn’t tell Felix because I wanted to do this for you. Felix bought you that pretty necklace and earrings, and I wanted to give you something. But I’m also smart enough to realize that I need a professional to handle teaching you how to ride. Talk soon, as tonight the class only runs to eight. Then we can go get some toys…and have fun. Don’t worry, Phil and Felix are just attending your class because they just want to support your decision to learn.”

He gave her a winning smile, which didn’t convince her. Not one bit.

“They’re here to yell at you,” she stated. She poked him in his chest, but carefully, so not to hit his implant or his old burns.

“That also!” John Garrett admitted with a loud laugh.

He winked at her and then leaned down to kiss her on her forehead. “John and Tim are great instructors. They’ll start you off on a small trike and move you up to something similar to the one I bought for you. When you’re comfortable with that, you can finalize the order for your trike including any customization.”

“When do I get to see the bike?”  She asked.

“When you’re ready for your test drive. Kiss for luck.” He leaned down again and kissed her until her toes curled.

* * *

John Garrett sat down on a park bench overlooking the deserted parking lot and he called, “Come out, I see Winston.”

Winston meandered over, followed by his two pets, Felix and Phil.

“You gave earrings and a necklace, and I wanted to give her something,” John explained.

“That’s roughly twenty thousand dollars’ worth of something,” protested Felix.  “The necklace was an apology because she mistakenly assumed that I slept with Nikki.”

Saying that out loud made Felix flush.

“And when you find our new home, that’s perfect in every single way, do you really expect either Phil or I to believe that it’s actually a bank foreclosure?  Maybe Jemma will believe it, but we will know that you’re floating the majority of it,” protested John.  “Some of us find that financially emasculating. It’s perfectly acceptable that you bought her a few odds and ends from Tiffany’s…”

“And you bought her a Harley Davidson trike,” protested Felix.  “That’s not in the same league as a necklace, John.”

It was truly exhausting being the level-headed, sane one among the cast of insane, rabid lemurs, Phil decided.

“So, what does that leave me to buy as a romantic gift?” Phil asked, as he was trying to show them that they were being stupid.

“I noticed her Nissan needs new tires,” Felix offered.

“The tread is bad,” admitted John. “Get four and put a bow on them!”

Being a diehard romantic, Phil did not find presenting Jemma with a set of Goodyear Tires as very romantic. That was a **_safety_** gift, which was more of a Felix gift.  All three men jumped in sympathy as they witnessed a near collision and Winston sighed.

“Oooh! Good thing Tim can jump. I understand that he’s your therapist and all that, but that was pretty stupid standing there,” was John’s color commentary.

 “You’re never riding with her, Winston. I promise,” his dad informed the quite concerned Winston. "And I'm never getting near here on a bike, either."

“Rook’s mistake,” John inserted. “She’s thinking motorcycle. I am quite impressed that she nearly took out a Howling Commando.”

“I warned him,” Felix murmured. “Apparently, he didn’t believe me when I warned him how dangerous she is. Oh good, Tim wasn’t hurt, except for his pride. They’re gonna try again, and most importantly…”

“We’ll never admit that we witnessed that,” admitted Phil.

“To Jemma, at least. I want to tell Tim the next time he gets a little too cocky,” admitted John.

* * *

“Let’s try that again,” Tim suggested to a flustered Jemma. “First of all, deep breath. Calm down.”

“You’re really almost one hundred years old?” Jemma asked. “You look barely older than Felix.”

“I think I look younger than Felix as my hair isn’t white,” demurred the Howling Commando. “I just let you know because the age difference really isn’t that bad because…  I’m sure they’ll be able to keep up with you when you hit your peak in twenty years or so.”

She gasped.

“I thought you were a gentleman,” she protested. “Felix says nothing but nice things about you.”

“I’m a therapist that deal with agents suffering from extreme Post Traumatic Stress,” Dugan explained. “Felix hates me at times, absolutely positively loathes me, but I have given him permission to get mad at me. Consent to be enraged to the point of absolute speechlessness, with a bonus of Hulking Smashing rage permitted also. You haven’t chatted with me, so when I found out Skull was teaching you how to ride a trike, I figured I’d help. You need to visit me as I want to make sure you understand what you’re getting yourself into with the three village idiots. Bloody bastards are smirking as you nearly hit me with the trike.”

“They saw?” she whimpered.

He didn’t answer, instead he asked her another question. Actually several questions.

“Can I ask you something?  Why are you doing this? Do you really want to learn how to ride a trike?” Tim asked.

Originally, she hadn’t wanted to do it. Not at all, but John had seemed truly enthused (really, even more enthused than his full throttle norm) about the chance for her to learn, and how it would be **_great_** as they could all ride bikes together that she had hesitantly agreed.  Really, while she was becoming more comfortable in being assertive, there was something about John and his enthusiasm that made her… well… feel like a willow tree facing the onslaught of  hurricane.

Not that she didn’t love him, but… there was still a very significant part of Jemma Simmons that wanted to be nice, to follow the rules and do what was expected of her. It had made her feel… nice… that she was a good girl. It had been her modus operandi for most of the earlier part of her life. Be well behaved, be good and make her parents proud.

Deciding that she was dating a harem of older men … a significant shift in her morals and world view.  Coming to the decision that in THEIR BEST INTEREST she’d refused to release two of them back into the dating pool and instead keep the three of them for herself… terrifying, exhilarating…. And part of John Garrett’s master plan.

Sometimes, she had to admit that John Garrett scared her. With Phil, it was easy, as he was calm, romantic and gentlemanly, so he kept everything slow paced due to her inexperience.  The deeply traumatized Felix, now that she was no longer scaring him into complete catatonia, went slowly because he needed that pace so he was comfortable.

John… Jonathan Garrett… human dervish, Tasmanian devil, who pushed the envelope. He was scary, nerve-wracking… and able to convince her to do things that she never thought possible. Jemma Elizabeth Simmons riding a motorcycle. Jemma Simmons group dating. Jemma Simmons planning on sharing intimacy with three different men in a two week period. Jemma Elizabeth Simmons soon to be led to a very large bed where all three men….

AT THE SAME TIME!

Three men, 1 Jemma, one goal (Achieved multiple times, through a variety of techniques, her ducklings had been quite quick to promise her).

How was that supposed to happen? The sheer logistics of it all… 

Her mother would have fainted, her father would have disowned her and well… even Fitz seemed disturbed by the very thought.  But, somehow, something had changed, and she had been rather looking forward to it, but … oh Dear God, she had nearly killed Blake’s Therapist!

“I enjoy riding with John,” she admitted.  “Felix and John both love riding, so when John asked me, I thought… it would be nice to share this with them. I wasn’t sure at first, but… I’m a little nervous about trying new things that aren’t science related.”

“This is all science,” protested Dugan. “Acceleration, mass, friction, deceleration….”

“That’s Fitz’s specialty,” she protested. Then in a very prim tone, she explained, “I’m a **_biochemist_**.”

“Dear, dear, dear. I promise you a great deal of biology and chemistry if you learn the basics of riding tonight. **_Promise_**. Does that motivate you?” Skull added.

“I think it does,” she admitted while Dugan roared.  Then and there Jemma came up with Jemma Elizabeth Simmons SHIELD hypothesis.

Theorem: All male SHIELD Agents above the age of 50 were dogs. 

Corollary: Except Felix, who acted like a puppy as Winston was Top Dog.

* * *

 

By the end of her first lesson, Jemma had mastered the horn (very important), the brakes (rear and front – also extremely important) and determined what the throttle was and what it did. She had managed to drive the trike around the parking lot several times without inflicting friendly fire. When her lesson was completed, the trike put away by Skull, John Garrett was waiting for her.

“You did really well. Phil and Felix were impressed how quickly you picked up everything. I told them that I’d send their thoughts along as this is my weekend and I want to praise you. Worship you for a job done well,” he congratulated her. “Plus, we never would have guessed that Timmy could jump that fast.”

He laughed, and Jemma’s smile faded.

“First time I tried to ride a bike, I couldn’t keep it balanced, so I weebled. A lot,” he admitted. “We all have stories. We’ll come back tomorrow so you can have some more practice. Are you ready to go? We can get to Babes before it closes, and you can pick out something. Then I’ll take you someplace nice and we can open the package and read the instructions. Or maybe, we won’t read the instructions. I’m more of a play and learn as you go along soul.”

His smile was wild and feral and dangerous and…. And… her smile faded still more.

“Hey,” he whispered as he leaned towards her, shielding her from Skull and Dugan. “You know, you can always tell me that you don’t want to go there. I won’t be upset or disappointed. However I will be quite angry with myself if we went there and you couldn’t tell me you were uncomfortable.”

She slumped forward and whispered, “I’m not really comfortable with the idea.”

“Then we don’t go,” he admitted easily.  “I just want to be sure that you have experiences, Jemma. Good, bad, indifferent, totally off the wall **_experiences_**. I don’t want you to wake up in five years and bitterly hate the three of us for turning you **_old_** before your time. That you look at the three of us as the men that denied you **_everything_**. That you view us as your jailers instead of lovers.”

Again, John Garrett surprised her with his startling insight, hidden by his joker’s mask. It would be easy to deny it, but John was right. What would the five years older Jemma be like? Pregnant, probably, with a toddler or two underfoot and… possibly regretting that she never sown her wild oats?

_Felix had told her to have fun with John and Phil. That she should enjoy the experience, because she really needed to live before she settled down. That she should sow her wild oats. Get drunk, get a tattoo or three._

“Maybe, tomorrow after lessons? I think it would be nice to try it first without the need for batteries,” Jemma asked. “I’m also thinking… I’d like a tattoo.”

“I know who does Felix’s tats,” Garrett confessed with a very devious grin. “I can make an appointment when you decide what design you want.  You can hold my hand when Mickey does it.”

* * *

To her surprise, John didn’t take her home to either apartment. Which was nice, as she had been a little leery about dealing with either of John's possible roommates (as she had experienced 1st hand Fitz and his boys numerous times). However, she wasn’t anticipating that he’d rent a penthouse suite at one of the boutiques hotels in NYC.

“Oh good, they remember the champagne,” he announced even as Jemma oohed and awwed at the fireplace, the huge skylights which showed off the city, the soaking tub…  “I can’t believe that they forgot the corkscrew.”

“I’ll call down for one,” she said before John announced that she need not bother.

“I’ve got a spoon,” he announced. “Now watch this.”

He placed three glasses on the table, took the champagne bottle out of its ice bath and grabbed a spoon. With surprisingly little mess, he sabraged the bottle, neatly severing the neck of the bottle. WITH A TEASPOON. He checked the bottle neck for rough edges and then poured the champagne into the three glasses. He handed her the second glass to Simmons and he took the third.

“A man is only as old as the woman he feels,” he offered as a toast.

Jemma Simmons couldn’t help herself. She giggled like a loon.

 

 


	56. Phobias & Scars

John Garrett and Jemma Simmons drank champagne, really good… ok the best champagne that Jemma Simmons ever had in her rather limited life and then Garrett ran one calloused finger down her cheekbone. It caused her to blush as it sent tingles everywhere.

“What do you want to do?” He asked. “I’m quite sure our mutual friend was quite thorough…”

“Exceedingly so,” happily remembered Jemma with a blissful, fond smile

A smiling John bit his lip and shook his head in pretend disbelief.

“Oh, I shouldn’t have admitted that, should I?” Jemma nervously asked. “I don’t mean for this to be a competition.”

“Well, let me finish talking first,” he requested. When she nodded her head, he continued, “He was very thorough and very meticulous in his obviously heartfelt wish for you to have a wonderful experience.”

“He didn’t let me do anything,” Simmons admitted. “I hope he wasn’t disappointed.”

“No, he was thrilled that he gave you a positive experience. The three of us really want that, so you need to tell us if we’re getting a little too focused on that. Promise?” John Garrett smiled when he finished talking.

She nodded, and he tilted his head. “So, what do you want me to do? Anything you want to try?”

Simmons pondered for a moment and then she whispered, “Would you let me undress you? With the lights on?”

He swallowed once, twice, three times and his smile fled for parts unknown.

“It may kill the mood,” he admitted.

“He puts me on a pedestal, which is nice,” she slowly admitted, but she still she tried to explain her unease at Felix’s sweet sincerity.  “Most women would be quite happy be adored, but I’m a little afraid of heights.”

It wasn’t the truth but John understood what she couldn’t say. He was almost clairvoyant in his perceptions.

“A pedestal is required, as you are our personal goddess,” teased John.  “On a serious note, it will take time for him to be comfortable receiving affection from you. He wants it, but … he’s just… gun shy.”

“Which you are not,” Jemma reminded him. “So, turtleneck? Coming off?”

“Can we dim the lights?” was John’s surprising request.

“Of course, but I have to remind you that I’ve seen you undressed,” Jemma gently reminded John.

“However, I was not at my best, as my AK-47 was not locked and loaded,” protested John. “I have a reputation to maintain, and I know you had Skye encrypt a folder on your personal tablet so you could detail and analyze your three boys in all the important areas. Seriously, Simmons… did you bring a ruler when you and Felix frickle frackled?”

Jemma stopped cold and John smirked.

“I just wanted to put down what each of you liked,” she admitted even as she dammed herself for using Felix’s personal WIFI that one day. “I mean, it’s important to know that Felix won’t do any position that triggers his cleithrophobia… I mean, he doesn’t even use his shoulder harness when he’s driving his Jeep and that means I can’t....”

John Garrett held his hands out in a mock protest.

“JEMMA! We like… no… **_love_** you… that should be enough for you to delete that folder,” John insisted. “As for Felix’s Cleatophobia, do you really wear cleats to bed? That’s really **_kinky_** , Simmons.”

“Cleithrophobia is the fear of being restrained, which means I can’t even gently try to push him back against the mattress,” Jemma stated. “While, my dear John, you are exhibiting a classic case of Gymnophobia.”

“I do not have a fear of going to the gym. I’m just big-boned,” protested John. “I just use the treadmill in Felix’s apartment when I can get Winston off it. When Felix is too lazy to take him for a run, he puts Winston on the treadmill.”

Jemma shook her head and smiled.

“It’s a fear of being naked,” she stated. “As you’re doing everything to circumvent my desire to take off your clothes without coming out directly and saying ‘No’.”

“It’s not that, Jemma. I worry you might have cicatriciaphobia,” John admitted as he looked over her head at a distant memory that only he could see.

Someone had been repulsed, she realized. Someone John had trusted completely and utterly… had possibly even LOVED…. yet had been unable to see past his scars.

“That’s not a clinically diagnosed phobia,” she protested. “And I do not have a fear of scarred or damaged men. When I look at you three, I know that you’re survivors.”

Then carefully and deliberately, she placed her hand on his side, where the scar from his near evisceration resided.  When John didn’t protest, she began to undo his belt buckle.

* * *

 

Really, it seemed that undressing someone took a great deal of practice, or else required an iron will as John kept distracting her from her goal with blistering kisses. When at last she finally divested him… deturtle-necked him, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he just looked at her, stunned, as though the fact that she wasn’t repulsed by his scars, overwhelmed him.

The burn marks on his shoulder, so ugly and painful looking. Hesitantly, she leaned forward and stood on her toes so she could place a gentle kiss in the center of the burn.

He inhaled quickly.

“Did that hurt?” she whispered.

“No, I just don’t often have beautiful woman kiss me there,” he whispered. “You’ll have to be careful about the implants, sometimes, where the metal meets the skin, it’s…sensitive. However, I will have no problems if you desire to push me against the mattress and have your wicked, wicked way with me.”

“I can… touch you?” she asked. “Can I kiss you…. There?”

He nodded and gave her a risqué leer.   “You can even top,” he assured her. “I enjoy assertive lovers who wish to explore their sexuality, even when they are just so sweetly insecure. You’re sexy, Simmons. Accept that as the God honest truth from your devotee, Jemma.”

Then with a surprisingly quick gesture, he swept her off her feet and carried her to their bed.  Gently, he placed her in the middle of the bed and then he crawled in next to her.

“I have just one question, Jemma,” he asked.  His grin made it obvious to her that he was up to NO GOOD.

“Yes?”  she asked.  Warily, though she was tempted to giggle as he was such a little bad boy.

“Will you still respect little ole innocent me in the morning after you have taken nefarious advantage of me and my naïveté?”

Really, he was lucky that she only hit him with her pillow.


	57. Jemma's Lessons in Love Continue...

Seriously Lachesis  Grimme – are we psychically linked?

* * *

Jemma exhaled, a long, slow exhalation of utter sexual satisfaction and she stretched. Leisurely. Then she leaned over her victim and bequeathed him a very languorous and teasing kiss.

“You alright?” she asked. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“I think I just saw Jesus,” Garett whispered. He was supine on the bed and his eyes were focused at the ceiling. “Tell the boys to go with the funeral we decided upon, ok? However, can you untie my hands, please? Seriously, I’m glad you didn’t decide you wanted to try the handcuffs.”

She giggled, loudly so John Garrett sighed.

“I’ll take that as a no, then. Very well, every man for himself.” With a quick and efficient movement, he managed to free one hand and then he began to work on the other.  His hands freed, he stretched, popped a vertebrae or three, and laughed.

“Why are you laughing?” Jemma asked, before her old insecurities took over. She leaned into herself, shielding her naked breasts from view before John Garrett pulled her down next to him, and covered her with a blanket.

“I’m laughing because… I realized that if pretty damn fortunate that there are three of us involved with you. If there weren’t three men in this relationship with you, one man wouldn’t be able to keep you sexually sated,” he admitted with another chuckle. “I thought Felix was limping on Monday.”

“Was **_not_** ,” she protested. She had been very careful with the physically fragile Felix, though she wouldn’t admit to anyone, especially Felix.  He refused to admit to his physical limitations, even when he limped. Especially then.

Not that he had been limping.

No, not at all.

“Like he pulled a groin muscle,” Garrett merrily continued.

“I think I liked Felix in the afterglow better,” Jemma admitted. “He was pleasantly exhausted and drowsy. Not enough energy to be snarky.”

“He was completely inside his own head,” contradicted Garrett.  “He’s like that post-coital, even lately. I’m the chatty one while Phil goes either way, depends.”

“I fear I will need a hand guide,” Jemma murmured.

John Garrett rolled towards her and put his hand under her chin so she was forced to look at him. “Tell Insecure Jemma I want a chinwag. Insecure Simmons, I was having a really great weekend with Sexy, Sultry Simmons, and her bag of Sex Toys that she wished to try out. However, in the last five minutes, Insecure Simmons just showed up. What happened? Is the polynomial equation of your love life freaking you out?”

She nodded.

“Jemma, all three of us are very different in how we behave, in how we react, but all three of us adore you.  You’re our Queen Bee,” he stated.

She really couldn’t help her response. She shrieked. A quiet, dainty lady like shriek and she pulled the covers over her head.

“Mental note to self, must remind the others that she doesn’t like that comparision. Would you prefer another term of endearment! I know,” John Garrett announced as he dove under the covers. He looked at her, and smiled. A truly terrifying smile that Jemma knew from personal experience would have caused Phil and Felix to slap him upside his head before he even opened his mouth. “You can be a female Praying Mantis. Quite frankly, I don’t like being a bee drone because I don’t like my penis and lower abdomen being ripped away from me after we’re done. Least I have a 25% chance of escaping…intact… with both ….”

She hit him with a pillow.

“I know! A female sea horse! I can be a stay at home sea horse dad!”  John continued on with his zoology which earned him another thwack with her pillow which in turn made him roll over her and they laughed and kissed and… and……. Made her very, very late to work because John Garrett refused…. REFUSED… to let her ride pillion on his bike if she wasn’t wearing protective gear. And yes, go ahead, get a taxi, but she’d be even LATER!

And next date night, he’d take her a shooting range, so she could work on getting her pistol permit.

By the time she got to work, she was EXCEEDING LATE and she was caught wearing her skin tight leather riding pants when both Felix and Phil stopped by the lab. Felix just shook his head in a tired, exasperated manner that put the blame firmly on Garrett while Phil smiled.

Ok, he **_smirked_**.

And a horrified Fitz sent her to her office to change. POST HASTE. “Really, Simmons, I don’t know what’s gotten into you. Wearing those pants to work.”

Though Trip gave her a clandestine thumbs up and a loud wolf whistle.

* * *

 

Monday Lunch

She was sitting in the cafeteria, having a bit of tea, when someone sat at her table.

“When are we meeting?” Dugan ordered. HE didn’t ask, he ORDERED, like the former commander he was.

Simmons had deliberately ignored Dugan’s multiple polite requests for a chinwag. While Felix had given her permission (with a quick, ‘Not that you need it, you understand, but just in case you’re worried’) to speak with Dugan, Simmons hadn’t scheduled an appointment. She felt it was akin to a betrayal, to talk about Felix behind his back, almost as though she and Nicolette had decided to go out for drinks and talk about Blake’s quirks, such as how on their first night together, Blake had taken forever to fall asleep because he was afraid that he might have a nightmare.

Speaking about the infamous Nikki, she and Felix were back to being friends. And Blake was happy about it!

And while she should appreciate Nikki, as well, the accountant HAD come to her rescue when she and Skye had been HYDRA-Napped with guns ablazing, Simmons would much prefer if Felix and Nikki left their rekindled friendship at the level of exchanging polite and insincere Christmas cards.  Though it was nice that Felix helped Nikki move to Boston as that meant she was four hours away, though the way she and Jasper stared at other in absolute besottedness, Jemma predicted that the moving was for naught as Jasper lived in the city with his abuelita and… Nikki would be back in NYC soon.

“I think everything’s under control,” she lied. “Felix and I have reached an understanding.”

He looked at her, his disbelief coming through loud and clear.

“Ok, then we’ll just have tea and bikkies,” he growled. “Here’s my address, next Tuesday at seven. Not tomorrow, but the Tuesday after. We can discuss your problem free relationship with Felix. He’s on his best behavior right now, so I want to make sure you know what to anticipate when he falls back into bad coping habits. You have to understand, it’s not a question of it, but only a question of **_when_**. There’s no ‘Get out of Jail Free’ Card for Felix’s conditions. It’s a series of forward steps, some small, some large victories and some serious setbacks where you’ll want to slap him senseless. ”

He left then, and she sighed.

‘What’s the problem?” Skye asked as she sat down in the recently vacated chair. “You look unhappy.”

“I feel like I’m meeting the parents,” she muttered. “Dugan wants to talk to me.”

“You are,” admitted Skye.  “Really, Dugan isn’t that bad. He’s always very fun and flirtatious when he calls for Felix.”

“He’s ninety nine years old, Skye,” Jemma informed her female bestie. “A little old for you.”

It was mean, but true.

Besides, Skye was still crushing on Felix.

* * *

 

FRIDAY NIGHT

“Do I look ok?” Jemma asked, as she struggled to look sophisticated, yet sultry. Combining that look with an outfit suitable for dance lessons in East Coast Swing had completely flustered her.  “I look horrid!”

Skye made disapproving noises and told Fitz to delay Coulson.

“Hair up. Else if you’re dancing, it might get messy,” Skye decided.  “Shoes look good – leather soles and they’re sensible. You look like you can move in that skirt and the shirt is presentable. What’s the problem?”

“I fear for Phil’s safety,” admitted Jemma. “I’m not terribly coordinated. Dare I remind you about the bowling ball?”

“Please don’t. I can still hear Agent Blake screaming as they loaded him into the ambulance,” admitted Skye, who flushed once she saw the guilty look on Jemma’s face. “Sorry.”

“I just don’t know how he managed to move pass that,” Jemma admitted. “That’s pretty unforgivable in my eyes.”

“It’s because Felix never blamed you. It was an accident, a horrendously freaky accident with a bowling ball. However, if you ever go bowling again, and invite him, he’ll call out dead,” Phil stated from the door. “I let myself in as the door was open. You need to lock your door at all times. You ready to go?”

“I think so,” she said. Then she noticed that he had a gift bag in his hand.

He smiled, nervously, which made him so unbelievably shaggable that she tempted to launch herself at him then and there. However, he handed her the gift bag as though he was psychic and had launched a preemptive strike. Knowing Phil, he was probably was, and had.

“It’s not jewelry and it’s not a trike, I’m afraid,” he drolly admitted.

“Disappearing!” Skye chirped, even though neither Phil nor Jemma noticed that she was still in the same room. With a happy eye roll of faux disgust, she disappeared to the kitchen.

“It’s not a gift certificate for a set of top of line Michelin tires, are they?” Jemma asked. “Felix mentioned my tires.”

Phil’s face fell, and she was quick to add, “Though it would be lovely.”

Really, Phil’s expression had gone straight to expressionless Agent Philip J. Coulson, so she mentally kicked herself. HARD. Her mother would have been horrified at how she furiously ripped off the paper to discover… a set of DVDs.

“DVDs?”  she asked. She couldn’t help her questioning tone, because they were not labeled beyond 1,2,3.

“It’s all the first three Doctor Who episodes including some parts of missing episodes they just discovered that haven’t been released to the public yet. They are very high quality. I have a friend who owes me a favor. I know how much you love Dr. Who especially Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart. That could explain your fondness for older men.”

“I so fancied the Brigadier when I was younger,” she admitted which caused Phil’s face to twitch. “Have any of you thought of possibly growing a moustache? Maybe all three of you could do that for me.”

While Phil was staring at her, his mouth agape, she launched herself at him so she could snog him.

* * *

Sometime later, after a great deal of snogging.

“Good thing Lola knows all the shortcuts,” Phil admitted as they pulled into the parking lot of the dance studio.

“She’s a marvel,” purred Jemma. Phil grimaced a smile which surprised her as normally he was the first person to gush over Lola. “What’s the matter, Phil?”

“We need a safe word,” Phil blurted. Jemma gasped loudly and she knew… knew… she was blushing!

“I thought this was a dance club, not a sex club,” Jemma finally whispered.

Phil covered his face with his hands and mumbled, “I’m not GARRETT, Jemma.” After a few minutes he regained his composure. “It’s my tactile anesthesia. It’s not completely resolved and I don’t want to hurt you. We have to touch each other when we’re dancing, and… you need to tell me if I’m too… or if I’m not…. And… I’m nervous about tonight. I mean… later… I mean… I accidentally hurt Felix… and…”

He didn’t say anything after that confession, instead he rubbed his temple as though he had a headache.

Really, her remarkably perceptive subconscious had obviously picked the order of her harem.

Felix, first, so she’d understand what being physically loved was really like and how it was more than just the mechanics of the act, but how it needed equal parts of trust and safety and affection. John, second, teasing, but willing to let her explore her sexuality (And even take her to a sex shop with nary a blush!) until she was comfortable, which had left Phil for last. And Phil had been saved for when she was in the unique position of feeling both confident and comfortable in being a sexually aware female. Perhaps… even sexually aggressive, but in a positive way, she was pleased to think.

“Phil, I will take such good care of you later,” she whispered as she stroked his face. “Promise.”

“I just wanted this to be perfect for you,” he protested.

“Let’s go dancing,” she insisted. She gently tugged his hands. “I want you to hold me, and not to worry, Phil.”

 


	58. Swing Dancing

First of all, Jemma had anticipated a dance class, a mirrored room full of awkward beginners (like her, though a surprisingly deadpan Felix had assured her that her hug and sway rated a ten from the three judges) and their suave partners. She had NOT anticipated that it would just be her and Phil, who was looking rather dashing in an open collared shirt with jacket and dress pants…. And a former SHIELD agent by the name of Martinique.

“Mon chou!” the very spry Martinique called as she greeted Phil warmly, with a kiss on both cheeks. She wore a leotard with a long flowing skirt that showed that in spite of her age, she had a very shapely and lithe body. Then she turned to face Jemma, checked her out like she was a spavined, swayback horse who was being sold at market. Her face was expressionless and Jemma looked towards Phil. Just to be reassured about Martinique. When Phil gave her a slight smile and an approving nod, Martinique then announced, “Que tu es belle! So you are the young lady that has to deal with those three ne'er-do-wells?”

“Me?” Phil asked. “I think you’ve got me confused with someone else.”

“Yes, you scoundrel. Seriously, Felix is the only adult of the three of them,” admitted Martinique in a very conspiratory tone. “Though Phil was the better dancer in my class, he did insist on flirting with his partners. Felix was far more serious. John was incorrigible, so I just threw him out of my class.”

“I confess my belief that they haven’t really changed,” easily admitted Jemma which earned her a look of pretend horror from Phil. “Trouble follows them everywhere.”

“Like I’m not even here!” Phil protested. Both women both ignored him as they had apparently bonded and rather quickly over Jemma’s troublesome toddlers.

“Have you ever danced before? Real dancing?” Martinique asked.

“No,” admitted Jemma.

To her surprise, Martinique clapped her hands in excitement. “Excellent! Dancing is like love making, it’s much better if one partner is the more experienced of the pairing. That way the joy of the experience can be shared and enhanced.”

She made an approving clicking noise with her tongue, and Jemma realized that Phil was blushing. Horribly. And his incredibly sexy dimples had arrived! Dimples! She couldn’t help it, she giggled. A bemused Phil went on the offensive, took her hand and brought it to his mouth. With a very smoldering look, he placed a kiss just so and she was surprised that her heart was racing.

“Philip! You do know that there’s a pool on which one of you that she’ll pick, mon chou,” teased Martinique. “You will give me a hint so I can win. I need help financing my retirement. Dance lessons do not pay that well.”

“NO,” Phil stated.  Firmly. “No hints.”

Madam Martinique was displeased so she announced that she would be back in just a moment. 

“There’s a betting pool?” Jemma asked. Her voice went up a notch or three.

“Yes. You’ll get half of the proceeds as a wedding gift,” explained Phil. “Jasper opened the book but he shared the latest splits with me yesterday. So far the odds on favorite is that you’ll come to your senses and run off to Jamaica with Trip. Fitz will be heartbroken, but I can always introduce to him to Alphonso MacKenzie.”

Jemma glared and Phil smirked.

“Mechanically, they’re both brilliant, plus they have a fetish for plaid,” continued Phil.

“What are the other odds?” Jemma asked.

“John has better odds than me. Felix is a long shot, though there was a large bet placed on him recently. Everyone thinks it’s Skye out of a misguided sense of loyalty, but I believe it’s actually Victoria Hand. She knows him best, with the exception of John and me.”

“I can’t believe that there’s a betting pool,” Simmons murmured. “Felix doesn’t know, does he?”

“He does,” was Phil’s quiet response. “Felix knows just about everything that happens at the office.”

She sighed, and her shoulders slumped.  “People can be really mean.”

“He’ll tell you it doesn’t bother him, but it does because you’re involved.”

“Why did Jasper do it then?”  She had developed a chary friendship with Jasper Sitwell, as he had become part of their clique, somehow, when she hadn’t been looking.  It was a vast improvement in the cold war that had existed between them after she had “NightNighted” him… ACCIDENTALLY during a demonstration of the weapon.

“Ward was gonna do it, so Jasper did it first to keep it somewhat under control. Fury put Jasper and Ward together to keep an eye on Ward.”

“Victoria Hand though,” Jemma sighed. “I don’t believe she likes me.”

“She is not happy with Felix’s recent attendance issues, which have popped up around the same time you did,” explained Phil.  “I mean, he dislocated his hip, been electrocuted, was quarantined, attempted to foil a HYDRA kidnapping by himself, plus he’s been a little erratic in his work performance.”

Simmons put one cute hand over her mouth and shook her head in disbelief. “Oh no, I know how much pride he takes in his job.”

“By that I mean, he’s been witnessed smiling. Skye says he smiles once or twice a day. Victoria doesn’t know how to handle a happy Felix.”

His sass was reward with a foot stomp and pursed lips, which was immediately ruined by Jemma’s giggle.

“I want all my ducklings happy,” she admitted. Then she put her hand on Phil’s face and leaned towards him. “That includes you. I will take very good care of you tonight. Don’t be nervous.”

“The others, they’re used to my insensitivity,” Phil whispered.

“Your problem is that you feel too much,” Jemma whispered. “You put yourself into a cocoon of sorts to protect yourself.”

-=-=-=-

“I’ll have to use Phillip as a partner,” explained Martinique. “The East Coast Swing is more of a beginner’s dance, with eight steps in a six count. Phillip, please assume the leader’s position.”

Phil and Martinique gracefully demonstrated the step, step, triple, triple beat of the East Swing and Jemma took mental notes.

It seemed… doable… even with her lack of coordination. There was mass, acceleration, an angle or three to determine trajectory. Really, quite doable.

However, she failed to properly adjust her formula for the addition the carnal combustible catalyst of a flirtatious Coulson in an open collar shirt, who smelled simply divine, and had his large hands placed just so.  His sexuality completely overwhelmed her. That was her excuse when she accidentally spun him into a mirrored wall and then stepped on his foot with the heel of her shoe.

* * *

 

Phil limped over to a chair and waved Martinique away. “Let me look at my foot. I’m sure it’s nothing,” he protested.  He sat down and carefully removed his right shoe and sock before he grimaced as it was discolored and swollen. “Had to be the clutch foot.”

“You need that looked at,” admitted a horrified Jemma. “I’m so sorry.”

“You tripled stepped and swung me, instead of a two single steps and me swinging you. When I bounced off the wall, you stepped on my foot,” Phil easily explained. He wiggled his foot and grimaced. “Hurts. I’m sorry, I have to call either Frick or Frack to swing by and drive me to the hospital. Marti doesn’t have a license. You can’t drive standard and … after this, I’m rather nervous about you driving Lola. ”

“Can’t I call Fitz?” begged Jemma who was very gently applying ice to her wounded beau’s foot.

“And interrupt Date Night with Trip? No,” protested Phil.

“How about Skye?” asked Jemma.

“She’s never touching Lola,” Phil reminded Jemma. “Never ever.”

Naturally, all the remaining Harem Members aka the Avenging Angels arrived, wearing their motorcycle body armor… and their biker boots.  Even Winston was properly garbed, as he was wearing his biking gear. Martinique didn’t even try to hide her amusement.

“Was that really necessary?”  Jemma weakly asked.

John shrugged his shoulders and smiled that damn grin of his. “I figured that you had gone through the cycle.  You know, Felix’s hip, my resurrection, and now Phil’s foot, but Felix reminded me that well… It was actually Felix’s hip, my stitches, Phil’s wrist and then a new cycle with my resurrection, Phil’s foot, so Felix is pretty nervous.”

“But you electrocuted yourself,” protested Jemma to Felix.

“That’s all on John,” a deadpan Felix advised.

Phil sighed and asked them to focus on the game that was afoot – namely his foot.

“He is right,” John admitted with a fake pout. “Before Phil is afoot, thou still let'st splint."

“Really, I don’t think mangling Shakespeare is necessary right now,” protested Phil even as Garrett picked up Phil and carried him to his car. That left Jemma, Winston and Felix.

“We were actually taking Winston and the bikes out for a ride when Phil called,” explained Felix.  “Garrett had a desire to ride to Connecticut for ice cream.  What happened? I missed what happened when Garrett decided to be class clown.”

“Swing dancing,” Jemma curtly explained.

“Oh,” Felix said. He nodded his head once, and then looked at her. Then discretion, being the better part of valor, he nodded his head once more.

“What – no comments?” Jemma asked. “There must be something you want to say.”

Felix just looked at her and nodded his head once more. Really, Jemma wasn’t sure which would have been worse, dealing with John’s snarcasm or Felix’s head bobbing.

 “Shall we go the hospital then? Winston, would you mind sitting next to Jemma?”

Winston nodded his head and loped out to the car.

* * *

“This place looks familiar,” John quipped as the four of them sat in the emergency department waiting room.  “So, swing dancing?”

“Shut it,” growled Jemma. Winston licked her face and she giggled. As really, it was impossible to be angry when Winston impersonated a lapdog.

“Swing dancing,” repeated Felix.  He nodded his head once more and bit his lip. “Swing dancing.”

“I think for our physical and emotional safety, we need to curtail any and all activities with Simmons that are action verbs,” John began. “Bowling… SWING… Dancing…”

“Sexing,” inserted Jemma.

“Love making,” protested Felix.   

Jemma just sighed and to her surprise, Felix placed his arm around her.  “It’s certainly never dull with you,” he softly stated.


	59. Sassy Simmons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Organic kale. That is enough. Organic kale.

After far too long, Phil meandered out of the Emergency Department. His right foot was neatly swathed in an ace bandage and he maneuvered his crutches like an experienced pro.  To Jemma’s surprise, Felix gave her shoulder a quick, comforting squeeze, so lightly that she almost missed it, before he moved his arm away from her. But he didn’t remove it quickly, as though he was ashamed, or like he had been caught cheating…

But still he had, after a subtle head nod at Phil and after Felix had given her a brief squeeze of support.

Baby steps.

Which signified that her hopes that the four of them (sorry Winston, FIVE) together would work, were coming true.

“Ankle sprain,” Phil easily dismissed to the waiting crowd. “It’s an old war injury that flared up when I bent my ankle in a position that it didn’t particularly like.”

Garrett smirked, and leaned towards Jemma. “His old war injury? Ask him how he got it. Was it in Bogota? Dublin? Or was it in…. he was being considerate, so he didn’t turn on the light in Felix’s apartment as he wasn’t anticipating that he’d step on Winston’s stuffed dragon?”

“Someone has forgotten that I know **_all_** his secrets,” Phil murmured.

“Please Phil, blackmail is so déclassé, which is not your style. You’re subtle and sophisticated,” protested John Garrett. “And **_gimpy_**.”

“John, how about you and I leave them alone?” Felix interrupted with a long suffering sigh. It seemed that he was rather tired of being the lone adult in the crowd.  “Come on, John. Winston? Jemma please get Phil signed out and meet us by the exit, so we can take everyone home.”

The three of them shuffled off and Phil grinned … nervously…at Jemma.

“Still want to come over for dinner?” he asked. “No dancing for a month or so. Damn ligaments. I rolled my ankle a while ago, and not because of everyone’s favorite service dog’s stuffed animal. I was trying to show off and … God said, ‘Ha!’.”

“It wasn’t because I stepped on your foot?” Jemma asked. She did remember a rather severe foot stomping, but no ankle roll.

“No, I rolled my ankle after that,” Phil admitted. “My ankle flares up now and then, which is why I never bought a bike.”

“We’ll still be able to…” Jemma hopefully asked. Really, she had thought of nothing else ALL DAY LONG. (And last night too!)

“Had to cancel the trampoline,” was his quip.

“Seriously?” Jemma asked. “Not about the trampoline, but… you know.”

“I don’t know exactly how exuberant I can be,” admitted Phil. He smiled, crookedly, at her, and he traced her cheek with the knuckle of his index finger. “I could call for backup. I’m pretty sure someone would answer the call.”

“NO,” Jemma stated. A bit too forcefully as she realized that everyone was staring at her. She then leaned towards him and whispered, “Just _us_ for the first time. And for our first few times together.”

“Jemma…..” Phil exhaled, a slow exhalation and Jemma realized that he appeared careworn and exhausted. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, and that includes THAT. It most ASSUREDLY means THAT. I know there’s been a few jokes about it, but… not happening anytime soon and possibly never. We’re FINE with that.”

“You look exhausted,” Jemma murmured. It was an attempt to change the subject, but truly, he did look tired.

“I had a really horrendous week, and I was looking forward to tonight. Then I decided to trip over my own feet,” he admitted.

“It’s still on,” she assured him. “However, how about I give you a massage?”

“Might fall asleep,” he admitted.

“Then I can watch you while you’re sleeping,” she quipped which earned her a very embarrassed grimace of dismay.

“Who told you? Must have been JOHN,” he sputtered. “I’ll get him.”

* * *

 

“I planned on cooking dinner for you tonight, just to assuage your reasonable doubts that anyone in your harem can actually cook,” Phil explained to her as they entered his kitchen.  “I noticed that we usually do take out when you show up. Anyway, John can’t cook or bake, but he can grill, Felix is a pretty decent cook and I’m more the gourmet. I’m not up to standing tonight, so tomorrow, promise. However, wisely, I am prepared as I was a Rogers Scout when I was younger.”

“I want to see you in the uniform,” she protested. “You must have looked adorable!”

“Couldn’t afford one, so I was only in for a few months until I outgrew my hand me down uniform, but I memorized the handbook,” he assured her. “Anyway, I can offer you wine and antipasto. Or… that old standby… takeout!”

“No takeout,” protested Jemma.

He laughed,  

“May I ask a question?”  Jemma asked. When Phil nodded his head, she began feeling her way around what promised to be a very touchy subject. “Felix and John…. They didn’t have a good relationship with their father… but you…”

Phil’s smile faded, but he answered her, “His death was THE defining moment in my life. Until I died, came back, fell in with a bad crowd, and got enamored with a very pretty girl.”

Jemma looked confused, and Phil sighed in mock distress, “Yes, the order is correct.”

“Oh!” She said even she couldn’t prevent herself from bursting into a very wide smile. “You’re talking about me!”

“Seriously… Jemma…. Are you that naïve that you have no idea the effect you have on men?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “However, you can feel free to tell me how absolutely fabulous I am.”

“Modest, too!” Phil added which caused Jemma Simmons to nod her head in easy agreement. Until she looked quizzical as she realized that Phil was feeling sassy.

“I will take such good care of you tonight,” she promised. “However, first I must ensure that you are fed and wined so you have your strength for tonight’s strenuous exercises.”

* * *

 

Later

They were sitting quite close on Phil’s couch, watching a Bogart/Bacall movie and Jemma decided to be bold. For Jemma Simmons, at least. Deliberately, she placed her hand on Phil’s inner thigh and she heard Phil inhale. It was a sharp inhalation, so she had to look at him, to make sure.  The awed and hopeful look in his eyes made her feel… tingly and sexy… and… bold… yet… protective….

“Can you feel that?” she whispered.

He nodded.

She moved her hand up slightly higher.

“This?” she asked.

“Yes,” he admitted.  “Feels…. **_Nice_** …”

“Just… nice… I have to be bolder….” She murmured. “I was hoping for more…”

Deliberately, she took her middle finger and positioned it just so. With a gentle, teasing touch, she began to slowly trace a pattern.

“This?” she asked.

She rather believed he did as there was something very nice developing… and yes… **_sizable_** …. thanks to her tender ministrations. He bit his lip and nervously nodded his head.

“I’ll take such good care of you tonight,” she promised.  “Tonight and from now on.”

 


	60. Jemma Takes Charge

Sometime later, the movie finished, Phil and Jemma had made their way to Phil’s bed. Jemma, being sweetly assertive (plus wearing something long and slinky) convinced Phil to let her take care of him for once.

* * *

 

Jemma Simmons stopped massaging Phil, who was prone on his bed. Her cessation of her tender ministrations earned her a murmur of disappointment for her devotee. He wanted more, so she needed to pounce.  It was long past time for her to be bold, so she pounced, “Could you take off your shirt?”

There was no response from the horizontal Coulson, and Jemma tried once more. “Phil, please. Take off your shirt.”

“Why?” he finally asked.

Because I want to see every single glorious inch of you, she thought, but the Good Jemma Simmons realized that might be a bit too bold.  For Felix, most assuredly, Phil probably and John, heck no.

“I’m using massage oil, and I don’t wish to get it on your shirt as it will ruin it. Also, I don’t want to put direct pressure on your scar,” she explained.  “Come on, let me finish this massage.”

“You don’t have to massage my back,” he offered.

“I want to massage you and you need one as you are terribly, terribly tense. I really desire to take care of you and I want you to relax completely,” she explained. “Plus, I need your shirt off to decide where you’re getting your tattoo.”

A mock horrified Phil turned to face her, “Tattoo?”

“Property of Jemma Simmons. Reward if found. I’m marking all three of you as my personal property so I can take care of you and make sure you three don’t wander off. I will inject you with tracking devices after we’re married. Or whatever one does when she decides to adopt three men.”

After far too long, Phil snorted a laugh and then he deliberately removed his shirt.  However, he rolled on his back and left the scar where the scepter had entered him hidden. Undeterred, she leaned closer to him, and began to massage his head.  Plus she ensured that his third eye was properly stimulated before she moved down to his perfectly marvelous clavicles. Long, slow strokes with gentle pressure was her modus operandi… though she did concentrate on certain spots that caused him to hum in delighted response.

She didn’t ask him if he felt her touch, because… she could tell just by how he was reacted… by how he smiled. Though she was very, very careful about touching the area around his scar.

Perhaps she was too careful and not erotic enough as there was one problem. Phil’s breathing had slowed and deepened as it seemed he was close to sleep.

“Hey,” she mock protested. “Are you falling asleep on me?”

“No,” he whispered. “Just letting myself float along. This is absolutely amazing… You have no idea how good it feels… how long it been since I felt… **_anything_** like this…”

“You need to let someone else take care of you,” she protested.  “Permit yourself not to be in charge.”

“It’s hard….” He admitted which caused her to giggle. **_Inanely_**.  “ ** _That_** , too.”

She laughed even harder which caused him to flip her on her back.  He leaned over her and kissed her until her toes curled.

“God, Jemma, you have no idea how happy you make me. I never thought I could be this happy again, but you blazed in my life, hit me like an out of control bowling ball and… healed my broken heart,” he whispered. “I love you, Jemma.”

“I love you too,” she whispered. Giddily.

* * *

Jemma Simmons learned a great deal about Phil and herself that weekend. Relishing in the fact that she **_could_** be a sexually assertive partner, to be comfortable in her role of both giving and receiving affection, she permitted herself to relax, which made Phil unwind. He was such a snuggler and a cuddler, starved for physical affection now that he could feel again… that they spent the entire delicious rainy Sunday morning in bed, cuddling.  

They spent a long, leisurely weekend together.  They went to a Strawberry Festival in some small town, which secretly amused Jemma. Phil Coulson, Handler to the Avengers, the man who went face to face with Loki, had a streak of small town America in his soul.

He was just…. so cute, she realized as they sat down together for a lovely cuddle on the couch.  By late Sunday afternoon, she was head over heels (arse over tit!) for Phil.  As a lover, he was … amazing. Open, affectionate and romantic… but not cheesy romantic. (For example, he refused to do the old roses petals on the bed cover routine. Claimed it increased the possibility of someone getting hurt. And in a very dry tone, he assured her that with Jemma those odds became a near certainty.)

He was an absolutely amazing cook, as he cooked her the best meal she had in far too long; grass fed beef, organic kale (Kale! She actually ate KALE and enjoyed it) and a chocolate soufflé.  Paired with a wine that made her deliciously giddy, she was in absolute heaven.

“Seriously, why do we always do take out?” she asked. "You can really cook exceedingly well."

“John can’t cook so it would have given Felix and me an unfair advantage,” he quipped.  “However Felix and I will start cooking for group date night, if you’d like.”

What with his adorable dimples (and his rolled up sleeves! God, he had gorgeous forearms, and she made a mental note to have Felix roll up his shirt sleeves sometime for her) she couldn’t help but launch herself at him for a snog fest. Really, Phil was an absolutely fabulous kisser.

When they finally had to break apart due to fear of looming hypoxia, she was quite content to snuggle close to him. She placed her head on his shoulder and sighed in utter contentment.

“You are quite affectionate,” Phil teased.  Gently.  “Happy, also.”

“I’m just imagining my harem and the decades of absolute sexual bliss that’s in my future,” she admitted. 

Phil laughed.

“What?” she asked as she gently poked him.

“You’ve come a long way from the woman that passed out cold when she realized that Felix Blake was on her list of eligible bachelors. I believe that woman swooned not once but twice, I might add.” Phil smirked at her, and she smirked right back at him. 

“I hadn’t eaten all the day and I was overwhelmed by his sheer masculinity and his incredible eyes. That combination…” she sighed. Deliberately. Just to tease Phil. “Oh? Don’t worry, Phil. I think you have lovely eyes also. I mean, not as nice as Felix’s eyes… as they are really quite striking…. Combined with his nose…”

“Nose?” asked Phil, he of the crooked nose.

“He has a rather distinctive nose,” she continued.

“I can call him, ask him if he wants a threesome,” Phil finally offered. “You, me, him, his large feet…. His large nose and his striking eyeballs.”

She ceased laughing and she retreated into herself in order to regroup. “Do you want… to have… a threesome?”

Phil turned serious and reached her hands. “Seriously, I was joking.”

“I know,” she admitted. “And I’m not sure… how I’m feeling about the idea. On one hand, it’s not very proper…. But… I’ve learned a great deal from you three, including the very important concept that I shouldn’t permit my life to be limited by fears of being proper.”

In response, Phil moaned. “Garrett! Garrett! What have you done to our sweet Jemma?”

“Don’t blame John, it’s the fault of all you three evil men, who wanted me to be more assertive and self-confident in speaking of my needs and desires. Speaking of that, I think for my first threesome I’d like it to be you and Felix,” she admitted.

John had spoken to her about taking that step, that she’d need to continue being bold and audacious in order to convince Phil and Felix that was she was agreeable to a threesome.  Perhaps John would be surprised that she had taken the step so quickly, but… it was probably best as John was out of town so she wouldn’t have to send him off to a hotel for the night. Or something like that.

Or knowing her troublesome boy toy, he’d sit by the bed and make truly obscene commentary.

Really, she could swear that he had just yelled, “MAZEL TOV!” at her.

“You’re blushing,” Phil stated. “I didn’t realize that you were still capable of blushing after this lovely weekend that’s almost coming to a close.”

“I just realized that I’ve actually never seen the three of you be openly affectionate with each other. I mean, you all kiss me so absolutely deliciously, but I’ve never seen any of you kiss each other. I know you’ve kept it all very hush hush because you didn’t want anyone to know, but I refuse to believe that for the last two years you haven’t even kissed each other at least once. I know you’re being on your best behavior for me, and you can stop being silly now. I want to watch you three kissing each other and maybe… I’d like the three of you together…. And when you’re sleepy, I’ll sneak into the middle and cuddle.”

Phil just stared at her, all adorable in his confusion and then he smiled. A very wicked smile even as he pulled out his phone.  He dialed and then he bobbed his head while it rang.

“Hey, you doing anything since John’s away?” Phil asked. “Jemma would like you to come down for a dinner and a show. Bring Winston. And if you could, wear one of your dress shirts and roll up your sleeves.”

Phil easily evaded Jemma’s attempts to remove the phone from his possession and he waited for a bit before he added, “Oh yes. Sounds good, tie, also. But wear it loosened. Ok, see you in thirty minutes.”

He hung up his phone and smiled at Jemma.  “Since he and I will be wearing dress shirts and ties… think you can wear that cute little strappy number? He’ll be here in… twenty nine minutes…”

* * *

 

She barely had time to make herself presentable by the time Felix arrived. There was a knock on the door and Phil… who was wearing his work clothes… complete with suit and DRESS SHOES… opened the door to warmly welcome Felix and Winston.  Felix was wearing glasses… geeky glasses… and he carried a paper bag full of groceries.  He was also dressed as though he was heading off to work.

Looking all stern-faced and serious which made her insides quiver in delight. It was the suit, the tie... those marvelous shoulders.... 

Winston, however, wore only his fur suit as he was off-duty at the moment.

“Hi, pookie,” Phil murmured.

Felix just shot him a dirty look and he placed the groceries on the kitchen table. “Seriously, Jemma, this is a rather bizarre kink,” he rumbled. “Did John put you up to this?”

Jemma was a lovey crimson shade, and she hid her face behind her interlaced hands.

“She’s peeking,” Felix informed Phil. “So let’s just do this. Shall we?”

“Honey, you’re just so brusque,” teased Phil.  Being the slightly shorter of the two, he tilted his head upwards and Jemma watched as the two men kissed.  

Rather perfunctorily also.

No tongue either.

“I know you two can kiss better than that,” she protested when they broke apart.

“There’s never been an audience who is scoring us,” protested Felix. “We’re also usually liquored up.”

The other man shrugged his shoulders in easy agreement.

“Seriously, you don’t have to do this,” Jemma protested. “I was just thinking that it was rather sad that I had only seen you two kissing when Felix was drugged and lying in a hospital bed.”

Phil quirked a smile, and asked, “Did you see that? I thought you were too busy staring at Felix’s….”

With a growl of disgust, Felix pounced. Kissed Phil smack dab on his lips and gave Phil a proper kiss.  He had made his move only to silence Phil but it mattered not to Jemma. Just that they were energetically kissing.

She felt like such a naughty girl as she watched the delicious show and she knew Skye would be quite proud of her.  Fitz, however, would throw up in hands in tired disbelief.

“Much better! A for effort,” Jemma exclaimed even while she clapped her hands.

* * *

 

The kiss completed, both Phil and Felix decided to disrobe. By that, they took off their suit jackets… unloosened their ties… and yes… rolled up their sleeves, leaving Jemma very, very happy at the simply glorious amount of forearm porn.

“So, can we go to bed now?” She asked.

“No, I’m making dinner,” Felix protested while Phil easily agreed with Felix’s plan.

“Dinner?” Jemma repeated.

“Yes. Your meal will begin with a seared scallop and raspberry salad. For the main course, Lobster Thermidor and for dessert, we’ll feed you chocolate covered strawberries,” Felix explained. “Phil, will pick out the wine.”

Phil widely grinned while Jemma pouted.

“You wanted a dinner and a show,” Felix reminded her while Phil decided to chime in with, “Not a show and then dinner. We just gave you an aperitif.” 


	61. The Invitation

Phil turned carefully, on his one good foot and then he motioned at Jemma. When he realized that she had NO idea what he was trying to say, he moved closer to her as he unpacked the grocery bag.

“Kiss Felix,” he whispered. “He won’t make a move while I’m here, but I think he’d really like a kiss.”

She grimaced at her obtuseness and then nodded her head. Quickly, she slipped over to where Felix was arranging his Stark Pad by the stove.

“Hey,” she whispered.  Felix nodded his head and she leaned towards him.  “Watching you and Phil, I was a little disappointed. I was hoping that you might want to kiss me, too. So, I’m requesting my kiss.”

The order given, she stood on her toes (really, the next time she had the urge to snog, she’d need to bring a box as her boys each stood at least a half foot taller than her) and he kissed her. A slow, gentle kiss which while it made her world stop, wasn’t his usual earth shattering norm. 

“That was nice,” she informed him. She didn’t even try to hide her disappointment. “Very… **_nice_** …”

“I don’t want to cause any problems,” he whispered. “This is your weekend with Phil.”

“The only problem you’ll cause is if you continue to think that we BOTH don’t want you here,” she informed him.  “Now kiss me like you mean it.”

Practice did make perfect.

* * *

 

“Should we stay in the kitchen?” Jemma asked Phil even while Felix began slicing and dicing like a contestant on Top Chef.

He nodded, and took point at the table farthest away from the stove while he opened the wine.  While he poured, he mentioned “I invited him over because John’s not home. I didn’t want Felix alone with just Winston for the entire weekend. He’s an introvert, not a loner. Tonight, we need to be comfortable with not having John Garrett in the mix.”

Jemma looked at Felix and then at Phil. “Do you think he’s lonely? Sleeping by himself in that big bed?”

Phil quirked an eyebrow and leaned towards her so he could whisper to her without the fear of Felix overhearing them, “If you want to invite him, you can.”

Winston put his head on Jemma’s knee and looked at Jemma with big, adoring doggy eyes.

“Hello, love,” Jemma announced. “Do you like children? Are you good with them?”

“Loves them,” Felix admitted from the stove.  “Most Giant Schnauzers are too rambunctious to be good with young kids, but he’s very gentle and extremely mellow. He’s odd for a G.S.”

Winston looked disturbed by Felix’s character assassination, or it might have been the big shaggy eyebrows that made him look extremely disapproving.

“He was a rescue… like me… that’s probably why we get along so well,” Felix admitted. He clicked his tongue and placed a plate on the floor, before he placed three plates on the table.

“You’re not giving him our dinner, are you?” Phil asked.

“No, not at all,” laughed Felix.

* * *

 

Dinner was a quiet, relaxed affair. Not awkwardly quiet, but a comfortable, mellow quiet where no one felt the need to be boisterous and take over John’s role. Instead they chatted, with a good amount of flirtation from Jemma thrown into the mix. Perhaps a bit too much, as Felix blushed and Phil hid his face behind his hands.

It was nice… Jemma realized.  The food and the companionship, so she then decided that henceforth Phil and Felix would do all the cooking. She informed them of such, after both men had finished the wash up.  Her largesse earned her a crooked grimace of a smile from Felix and a laugh from Phil. “What is John’s role?” Phil asked. “He has to earn his keep.”

“He can change the oil in my car,” Jemma decided. “Rotate the tires also.”

Phil grinned and shook his head.

“Speaking of cars,” Felix began which caused Phil to groan. Dramatically. “Those tires are bad, and your exhaust system is failing. You need to investigate a new car.”

“I like my Nissan.” It was a cute little coupe, and while it wasn’t Lola, it was still hers. “I also won’t let you buy me a car because you think you need to bribe me for putting up with you,” she protested.

“I’ve got really good credit, so I can help you get a decent rate,” Felix softly offered.   “Phil or I could go with you when you talk to the dealer and we can haggle.”

“He scared his Jeep salesman,” Phil admitted with a dry laugh.   “However, that car of yours….”

“I know, but I don’t want to get a van just yet,” she slowly admitted.  Really, she was enjoying her new life so much,  what it being full of snogging, dancing, diners, trike riding… that she was loathe to move on to the next step.

Diapers. Spit up. Long crying jags (John).

Not that she didn’t want children but… not just yet.

“Why would you get a van?” a confused Felix asked.

“I think I’m supposed to be up the duff shortly,” Jemma patiently explained. “So goodbye cute car, hello van. With microfiber for easy cleaning and … easy access for car seats.”

Felix shook his head while Phil loudly protested. 

“My understanding is that at the end of six months, they’re hoping that you’re married,” Phil protested. “However, legally, at most, you’re to decide if you want to keep us or throw us back in the dating pool. Is that right, Felix?”

“Yes, the end of the six month period, it is hoped that a relationship acceptable to all parties involved is made…” Felix explained.

“All parties?” Jemma repeated, even while she crinkled her cute nose.

“All parties involved. I think the unwritten understanding was that the four bachelors not selected would take it well…” Felix began before Phil interrupted, “Get roaring drunk.”

“And wouldn’t protest, so the relationship moves full speed ahead, while in truth, nowhere does it say that it is a man and woman only, ” Felix continued. “Children don’t really get mentioned until the second year of the relationship.”

“You really know the Repopulation Act very well,” Jemma slowly stated.

“At the beginning, I was hoping to find a way for you to escape what seemed to be a fate worse than death,” Felix admitted. “I spent a great deal of time examining the regulations. Honestly, it’s not too late to make your escape.”

“I’m not planning on making an escape,” she protested. “I’m become exceeding fond of you both.”

“Fond,” Phil teased. “What’s that British for?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Felix. “I think it translates into, ‘I guess it’s better than marrying a HYDRA agent’.”

Bastard twisted his lips into an amused smirk and Phil shrugged his head in easy agreement.

“You git,” Jemma snapped. “It means I find you both extremely shaggable, and that I love you both.”

“Love you, too,” Phil whispered as he leaned down to kiss her cheek.

Felix bobbed his head and then opened his mouth. Jemma was happily hoping that he’d confess his feelings also, but instead, she got a rather strangled, “Winston? Do you need your night run?”

Winston was sitting next to Felix and he held his leash in his mouth. He happily wagged his docked tail, and Felix moved to pet him on his big head. “Time for a run. Sorry, kid needs a long run before bed.”

“Are you coming back afterwards?” Phil asked. “The invite has been extended.”

Felix’s eyes flickered to Jemma, then to Phil and then back to Jemma. Grimaced and struggled to smile.

“You don’t show up here, we’ll go upstairs,” Jemma easily stated. 

“Need to take Winston out,” was his escape.  And Winston quickly ran after him.

* * *

 

“Jemma, it will take time for him to be comfortable expressing affection,” Phil stated mildly. “And… he did run pretty fast for the door.”

“In other words…” Jemma began even as Phil put his arm around her.

“Too fast, too aggressive,” Phil explained. “Though Winston does need a walk before bed.”

Jemma sighed, a soft exhalation and Phil squeezed her shoulder. “This won’t work if Felix withdraws.” She ignored Phil’s devilish roll of his eyes, and struggled on. “I fear he’ll get lost among the clatter and din. Sometimes I’m in complete disbelief that you three were in a relationship for almost three years. What with Felix and John being complete polar opposites.”

“Being in absolute denial really helped,” admitted Phil.  “But you’re right. He has a tendency of keeping to safe situations where he doesn’t have to worry about his OCD tics and rituals, and… perhaps John and I have been a bit too considerate in keeping him out of those situations. We watch movies and sport events at his place instead of actually being at the stadium. He used to play hooky and take a day game every now and then, but he hasn’t been to a game since the Battle of New York. We need to push him, but carefully.”

She nodded and Phil stroked her shoulder.

“He’ll show up tonight,” he assured her. “He’s quite fond of you.”

“Fond,” she sighed.

“Which means shaggable and lovable,” he reminded her even as he entwined his fingers with hers.  They cuddled for a bit in companionable silence.

“Are you unhappy that I invited him?” Jemma finally asked.

“No, we have to make this work, which means we need to get Felix to buy into the relationship. All parts of it, and I think it would be easier for him if it was the three of us. Sometimes, I’ve noticed some tension between Felix and John.  Felix gets frustrated because of Garrett’s gregariousness and sometimes, Felix is just too Felix for John. I mean, sometimes even I wish he was … normal. It’s a horrible thing to admit, but sometimes… it would be easier…  That’s why you need to chat with his therapist, so you’ll understand about the roller coaster that is ahead. It’ll be rougher for you because… he’s really crazy about you and he’ll really push himself too hard to be normal for you. It’s not good when Felix pushes himself to be normal.”

Jemma sat up and looked at Phil.  “What happens when he does that?”

“It’s self-inflicted damage. He’ll push himself until he’s physically and emotionally exhausted. It’s what happened with Nikki after New York. When all his hard work was for naught, and she left him…” Phil stopped and then slowly continued.  “He had a nervous breakdown when she left him. It’s not in any of his files and… only five of us know. Tim, John, me, Felix and you. Winston was a life savior because Felix had to walk him, had to feed him, had to get out of bed because of Winston.”

Jemma closed her eyes and whispered a prayer that she wouldn’t bugger this up.

“You’ll do fine,” Phil promised her. “You’ve smoothed off John’s rough edges, made Felix sociable… and you forced me to listen to British Pop. I mean I’ve developed an appreciation for Barry Styles.”

That earned him a snort and a very exasperated, “Harry.”

“Like I said, Barry.”

* * *

 

Felix did a slow jog with Winston, and then found himself back at his apartment. His far too lonely apartment and Winston was pretty irked that all the fun people (Jemma) were at Phil’s apartment.  He showered and changed into his usual night clothes, sleep pants and a t-shirt because it was time for bed.

Really, he didn’t know how he ended back at Phil’s apartment but his heart was pounding and his mind was racing and he had no idea why the HELL he was there, as it was Phil’s weekend and he’d piss off Phil if he had read the signs wrong but…

However, Jemma’s smile of pure delight was enough to assuage his doubts.

"Come to bed, Felix," she whispered. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	62. Eeyore and Arugula

“So, shall we go to bed?” Jemma asked. Ever helpful, and more than a tad bit excited about the next step, she helpfully pointed in the direction of Phil’s bedroom.  Just in case Felix had forgotten the location.  It wasn’t as though he lived there, after all.

Felix slowly exhaled and Phil laughed, a warm mellow laugh. “She loves to jump in where angels fear to tread. Sometimes that trait even frightens John.”

Both men laughed in fond exasperation of Garrett’s Garrettness and a frisky Jemma pointed **_again_** towards the bedroom.

“We need guidelines,” Felix stated, as he needed to fulfill his obsessive need for guidelines and structure. “However, no Eiffel towering, please. Screw kayaking. No hitching and no masting. And this….” 

Felix gestured with his hands, raising his cupped hands upwards. Whatever he had discussed (motioned?) to Phil earned him a loud snort and a head bob of Coulson disbelief. Plus an indignant, “With your hip, Blake? No. Really besides high fiving, so déclassé. Goddess sandwich?”

Felix’s relief was quite apparent to Jemma, though she had no idea what the heck they were talking about.

“Fervent devotees, got it. That I can do,” Blake admitted with a warm grin, and a snap of both hands.

“I feel like there’s a conversation going on that I’m not part of,” protested Jemma. “Stop talking over my head.”

She waved her hands above her head, at about the eye level of Felix and Phil.  Really, being barefoot was a disadvantage when dealing with her much taller boys when they were both wearing shoes, so henceforth heels were required as part of the Jemma dress code during all conversations.

Felix rolled his eyes and Phil shook his head.  He leaned towards her and explained, “You’re the subject of said conversation.”

“And?” she pouted. “Are we getting to the good stuff? Soon?”

“No,” Phil stated. “We have a discussion first, and we need a safe word.”

“I thought Felix didn’t do bondage?” Jemma asked. She regretted her cheek when both men winced and Felix looked away from her. He was scarlet also, which was a very bad sign.

“News Flash, Coulson doesn’t really do it either,” Felix finally composed himself to dryly state. “Garrett, however, needs to be gagged every now and then.”

Phil placed his hand on her lower back and leaned close to her, “This is something new for you.  You need to feel comfortable letting us know if you get nervous. A safe word should be determined.”

“But I trust you,” she protested. However since they were being… hopelessly protective, she decided on a word. “Arugula.”

Really, it was worth the look of absolute adorable confusion on their faces.

ARUGULA? WTF!

* * *

She wanted to be bold, to be assertive but now that it was happening, she felt nervous, her previous bravado long gone. Maybe because when she sat on the edge of the bed, between **_two_** men… yes, they were **_her_** two men, but really, it was two of them and only her, and they were quite experienced in what they had joking referred to as Ménage à Garrett. (Really, it’s the only time he shuts up, Felix had confessed in that terribly, terribly dry tone of his that she adored.) However, they kissed her so carefully while they each held her hand. Phil first, a long, slow hesitant kiss while Felix stroked her back.  Felix next and… then Phil once more. Each man took a turn to kiss her slowly and thoroughly.

Somehow, she found herself on her back between the two men, and her top was off and… when had they removed it? She didn’t even remember being undressed… but they must have removed her shirt and her bra, as one mouth was kissing her, one hand expertly caressed her bare skin and other hand was stroking her breast while two hands were expertly dissociating... (deknickering?) her of her knickers even as a mouth kissed a slow trail downwards.

All in all, exciting… completely… overpowering… and… and… just completely… overwhelming…. Especially as she realized that each of them were being a little too determined on making sure she got her enjoyment. (Yes, it was the damn testosterone, as it seemed that there was a contest … a friendly contest between the two of them, but nevertheless a carnal contest on who could give her the most earth shattering climax which meant that they were pulling out all their tricks and techniques and twists guaranteed to make her eyes roll back in her head. And she knew if she had asked, both men would sincerely deny there was a contest, because they truly just wanted her to have a really good time.)

And she wasn’t ready for this level of erotic expertise.

No, not at all.  No, she had hoped for a little more hand holding, a little more… well… a hell of a lot less of multiple mind-blowing orgasms.  Not when she was still feeling her way through this relationship, trying to determine how to make it work, how to keep all three boys happy and secure and free from jealousy. Because she was sure there was a little bit of jealousy that was seeping into the relationship somewhere, so she needed to snuff it out. And yes, she might be the guilty, jealous party.

However, after she had a better grasp on her relationship with her boys, let the mind blowing (and other parts) commence.

“Arugula,” she whispered.

Both her boys immediately pulled away leaving her… bereft… and… worried about having angered them as she had been the one to insist on trying this. Instead of being angry, as HYDRA Avery would have been, they tenderly covered her with the blanket.

“Jemma… you ok, dear?” Phil asked.  His voice was very soft and affectionate.

She slowly nodded, unable to compose herself even to speak, because she was just so bloody furious with herself. Meanwhile, Felix got out of the bed and left the room.

“What happened? Can you tell us? Felix and I are very worried because you’re shaking,” continued Phil.

“Where did Felix go?”  she protested when she could finally speak. “He didn’t run off, did he?”

“Don’t worry about him, Jemma. What’s going on in that brilliant mind of yours?” Phil asked even as Felix returned with a glass of water.

“Here,” Felix offered. “Why don’t you sit up and drink this?”

She sat up while she ensured that she was still covered with the blanket and took a long, slow swallow. Several swallows in fact, and then she placed the glass that held water in both half liquid and half vaporous states on the nightstand.

“Felix, please. Won’t you get back into bed?” she whispered.  “Please?”

With a rough gesture, she rubbed her eyes and Felix murmured something to Phil.

“No, I don’t know what happened. She said the safe word and…”  Phil motioned with his hands.

“We didn’t hurt her, did we?”  Felix spoke in a very low tone. “I’d never forgive myself if I did. I shouldn’t have come back to your apartment, Phil. Should I go? Let you two hash this out? You can tell me what I did, what I need to fix it. I’ll go now.”

Oh God, more guilt. More unnecessary guilt especially as Felix wasn’t looking for his clothes, which meant a mad panicked, scantily clad dash back to the safety of his apartment where he would barricade himself in for the next two weeks. Really, she couldn’t permit that mad sprint as there was that bitch in Apartment 23 who always stared at Felix’s arse when he wore his motorcycle leathers. 

The only people permitted to stare at Felix’s arse was her and Skye who still seriously fancied Blake. Since they were good friends, she didn't mind Skye appreciating Felix's arse as it did look simply smashing in his motorcycle leathers. However like hell would the bitch in Apartment 23 get a gander of anything else.

“NO! However, if you don’t get back into this bed this very moment, you’ll emotionally wound me,” Jemma sniffled.

Felix looked at Phil for guidance, and only after Phil nodded his head, slightly, did Felix return to the bed. He sat on the very edge, and looked as though he was hoping for any reason, no matter how slim, to bolt for the hills. She felt an overwhelming sense of compassion for Felix as he was only wearing his boxers and he was rocking. Slightly.

Which meant he was in a bad headspace because of her.

“Please get into the bed and hold me. Both of you,” she requested.  Then she realized that she needed to instruct them. “That means, me in the middle, Felix on one side, Phil on the other and Winston can still stay on the floor.”

Bloody hell.  They were trying to find their clothes, instead of cuddling her! Further instructions to her troops were required.

“Keep your shirts off, and get under the covers with me,” she crisply demanded. “Arms around me.”

Then she added a plaintive, “Please?”

* * *

Jemma spooned against Phil, so that they both faced Felix. She took Felix’s arm, placed it so it draped over her and Phil, before she whispered, “Please, just hold me.”

“What happened?” asked Phil.

“Did I…. touch you the wrong way?” was Felix’s question. He looked horrified, convinced that it was his fault for the use of the Dreaded Safe Word, ARUGULA. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

She shook her head and tried to explain, “No, no, no. I ran before I could walk.  Fell down, bumped my nose.”

“Felix can kiss your nose and make it better,” Phil offered.  “I can’t really reach, but I think there’s a bruise on your shoulder. Would you like us to kiss your little war injuries and make them better?”

She nodded.

First aid kisses were lovingly applied and then Felix touched her neck. “You missed a spot, Phil.”

Another gentle kiss was applied and then Phil reached for her hand. “Her wrist, Felix.”

* * *

 

Much later on, a blissful Jemma sprawled between a sleeping Phil and a drowsy Felix. Phil had one arm around her, intent on a cuddle with her even while he slept. Since Felix was awake, she decided it was time for a much needed chin wag, just the two of them, so she carefully stroked Felix’s face. Long, gentle strokes so he’d become comfortable with her touching him.

“I’m terribly sorry about earlier tonight,” Felix whispered. “I wanted it to be really good for you.”

“It was, once I realized that I needed a slower pace,” Jemma softly protested. “My own fault, not yours. And it was utterly delightful for me. I love you, you don’t have to try so hard, Felix.”

Well. She was guilty of the same offense, wasn’t she? Quite utterly guilty of the charge that she believed that she needed to be more sexually adventurous for her two boys. If she had just admitted that she needed a little more experience to become comfortable with that level of passion…

“I have to try,” was Felix’s response. “There’s Phil… who’s **_Phil_** … and John… who’s **_John_** … and that leaves **_Eeyore_** who desperately wants to be any other animal in the 100 Acre Woods.”

“I love my little grey haired Eeyore…” He needed to believe her because she worried that he'd push himself into another nervous breakdown. 

“White haired,” he inserted.

“I love my little salt and pepper Eyeore with his cute little tail,” she continued as though he hadn’t interrupted.  “I wouldn’t want him any other way.”

 


	63. Mushy Peas and Board Games

She had gently informed Felix that she loved him. TWICE. That done, and as she doubted that he’d spontaneously vocally reciprocate, she decided it would be enough to snuggle.  Therefore, she closed her eyes and decided to rest her head on his chest.

“You ok with this?” she murmured.

To her delight, his only response was to stroke her hair even as Phil moved still closer.

It was rather nice being a Jemma sandwich, she realized even as she drifted off to sleep. She felt adored and safe.

* * *

Tuesday night

Jemma Simmons was still bubbly, giddy and walking on air when she met with Tim the Therapist the next day.  Tim gave her a warm smile, at odds with his fierce reputation and he suggested that they sit out back in his yard.  It was a small green patch of gardenly paradise amidst the urban jungle.  It was a very relaxing place to have an Inquisition, she realized. 

“Thought it would be more comfortable. I can get out the overhead spot light if you want,” he admitted when she mentioned her suspicions about his duplicity. Jemma smiled. “Bitter? Stout or Ale?”

“Ale, please,” she requested.

“Morland Old Speckled Hen?” Tim asked when he returned with a bottle in both hands matched with a devious grin.

She merrily laughed, accepted her bottle and tilted her head, “Who told that I prefer a proper English ale over American beer?”

“Guess,” was Tim’s response, even as he handed her a bag of her favorite crisps.

“Felix,” she murmured.  “He’s sweet like that. I mentioned it in passing once… and he remembered.”

Tim sat down and he appeared serious. “He’s not being sweet, Jemma.”

“I still say he’s being really sweet,” Jemma calmly disagreed, not willing to give Tim one inch without a fight. “Of course, you will claim that it’s part of his disorder. That he remembers the smallest thing no matter how minute, but I find that trait utterly charming.”

“Can you imagine getting into a disagreement with a man who remembers everything?” Tim then asked.

“He’ll pull back and go inward,” Jemma slowly admitted.  “I’ve seen that first hand.”

“Knowing him now, how would handle a true disagreement with Felix?” Tim questioned. “Not a minor one, but one where he’s retreating before your very eyes.”

She took a long sip of her drink and then spoke, “I will permit him his feelings. I will let him validate them as much as he is able and I will not negate what he is feeling, even though it might make no sense to me. I will keep Phil and John the hell out of it.”

“That’s a good answer for the first time. Yes, what if the ninety seventh time you’d have the same disagreement, and he won’t budge, in fact… he regresses… with the mindless fear of a terrified toddler face to face with the Scary Monster under the Bed. You are emotionally exhausted and have reached the breaking point where you utterly loathe his condition and the problems that it causes,” Tim asked.  “On the tip of your tongue, just begging to be made public, is a rather bitter comment about how you wish he’d just try to be normal for once. To be able to easily express his feelings for you like Phil does or to be a bit more adventurous like John. Perhaps you might even tell him that you’d wish he’d wag his tail more like Winston does. Don’t tell me this won’t happen. It will, Jemma. It will, and how will you react?”

It was a horrid thought, and she pondered. What would it be like to be in such a state? To know how badly she could wound him by voicing her frustrations.

“I hope never to get into such a state where I would viciously compare any of them to each other. I will walk away and hope that he doesn’t see me weep in my utter frustration as it will deeply wound him. I will have to understand and accept why he can’t tell me that he loves me, and that he obsesses over safety and security,” she softly admitted. “And I’ll try to remember the sweet, solitary and terrified man that gave me the key to his heart.  While I am quite saddened by the fact that he may never be able to tell me that he loves me, I hope that one day he’ll feel safe enough to do so. For now, this will do.”

She touched the necklace that she had rarely ever taken off since Felix had given it to her.

“I wish it was different, but … don’t give up hope. He’s come a long way. Next question, Jemma. Why? It’s difficult enough being in a committed relationship with one healthy man, but you’re taking on three damaged men.”

“Because I’ve quite fond of all three of them and they’re a matched set,” she offered. Tim rolled his eyes so she continued, “I like that … it’s not one on one. That each one brings something different yet complementary to the relationship.  All four of us can do activities together or just two or… solo… .  I think I’ve become more comfortable in asserting myself, else they’d have walked over me by now. There’s a strong support network they’ve created for themselves. They’ve taken me in, and it’s become a very comforting, nurturing environment after a very rocky start. It would be a good structure to have children… especially….”

She stopped as she hadn’t wanted to explore that dark thought, not yet, and she composed herself before she continued, “If something should happen to one of them. Or to me.”

“Good reasons, but… I’m looking for something more substantial,” Tim prompted.

Well, Jemma knew that Tim wanted her to say some bull shite about love, so he could warn her that being in love might not be enough for her future.

“Shagging them is absolutely amazing,” she informed him. “And it gets better each and every time.”

And really, one hundred points to Jemma Simmons as she made a Howling Commando blush.

The first blood drawn, Tim smiled a very scary smile.

“So I’ve heard,” he admitted before he lobbed an emotional grenade at her.  “However, there’s more to life then sex. Have you discussed child raising? I mean with the three of them having wildly different childhoods, I’m sure you’ve discussed this.”

* * *

 

Wednesday Afternoon

**_To: Jemma  
From: Felix_ **

**_How was last night’s meeting with Owl?  We can discuss over a meal of thistles and an extract of malt tonight. Naturally, you can order the honey but I find it rather sticky. Gets in my muzzle and it’s a godawful mess._ **

**_Eeyore_ **

* * *

To: Felix 

From: Jemma

I believe your email has been hacked, as I’m getting emails from some hacker punk coder named Eeyore. I wonder if he’s friends with Skye. Nevertheless, please change your password. I’m loathe to mark all your emails as SPAM just in case you truly did send me an email inviting me out for dinner on what had been originally scheduled as a John Date Night. Where should I meet you? Or maybe, you and Winston can give me a ride? No double entendre meant. (However, much hoped for).

Jemma

* * *

**_To: Jemma_ **

**_From: Winston_ **

**_Mum,_ **

**_PlEeZ ComE OvEr to My PlacE! My PeT will cOOk. WhIlE HeZ DoInG ThAT We Can PlAY SQUEEKY ToYz! SqUEEKinG is FuNNer With U. My PeT Doesn’T SqueEk Good._ **

**_WiNSton_ **

**_Bestest SerVice Dog EveR_ **

**_PS Since JohNNy And PhiLL aeren’t in ToWn My PeT Is LonLeeee. He nEEdZ a PlaY DaTe. Tim GaVe hiM a BoArD GaMe for his NexT PlAy Date._ **

* * *

Winston greeted her when she entered the apartment.  Felix was preoccupied, motioning at the stove in what only could be an exasperated manner. When he realized that he had company, he grimaced a smile and said, “Hi.”

“Hi,” she offered back as she leaned sideways to view the offending covered pot.  “Is there a problem?”

“Dinner isn’t what I hoped. The fish and chips seemed to have survived my attempts at cooking them. But the rest. Are banoffee pies supposed to look like that? Kinda…” he asked. He wiggled his hands. “Puddingly?”

“You made me a banoffee pie?” she repeated as she hadn’t had a banoffee pie in years.

“I attempted to make a pie,” he clarified.  “And the less said about the peas, the better. I think they de-evolved into a primordial slime.”

“Are they **_mushy_**?” She hopefully asked. “Really, really mushy?”

He pulled a pan off the stove and removed the top.  They were a glorious, goopy mess of greenness and an overjoyed Jemma reacted. Immediately.

“I want to have your babies,” she informed Felix.

“Rightnow? Righthererightnow?” he blurted with true terror. “InFrontofWinston? InfrontofthosePeas?”

It took her a few minutes to mentally repeat and slow down his bleat of terror so she could understand his fear. “You silly duck,” she teased before she kissed him. “I love mushy peas!”

“Really?” he asked, complete with a sideways glance, as though he anticipated someone would burst his door yelling, ‘The Joke’s on You, Blake!’

“Really.”

* * *

 

After a lovely meal of fish n’ chips, gloriously green mushy peas and two servings of pie, Jemma popped the question.

“Board game?” she asked as they were sitting in his living room. “Winston mentioned a board game?”

“After your conversation with Tim, he sent me the game. He say that he wants the two of us to play it and then come back for a group chat next week,” Felix stated. “He wants me to work on… communicating. To bring my walls down and let you in.”

“I thought you had?” she whispered. Really, it hurt a little to think that they had come so far in their relationship, to the thinking of long term commitments and possibly babies, and to know that she was still on the outside.

“Not all the way,” he admitted. “There’s some walls that… However tonight, I will bring the walls down and answer the questions truthfully.”

“Only if you feel comfortable,” she insisted.

He just shook his head in tired defeat.

“That’s not how it works, Jemma. Comfort and retreating are the same thing for me. We start off the game with a kiss, and then roll the dice. Shall we?” Felix asked.

“I love the kissing bit,” she admitted so they kissed for a bit.  That done, they rolled the dice and Jemma won, so she went six spaces, landing on a situation card.  She picked it up and then she laughed.

“What?” Felix asked.

“Does your partner believe that a good credit score is important?” she read. “Hell, yes is my response.”

He shrugged his shoulders in easy acceptance. “It is very important. I’ve gotten Skye’s up to 525 which considering she had a score of a hundred a few months ago is truly remarkable. By the time she’s done paying off the loan, she’ll be able to buy a car with a low rate.”

“Simply amazing that she was able to get a loan with a manageable interest rate with a score that was in the sub-basement,” Jemma stated. She leaned towards Felix and asked, “You co-signed, didn’t you? Be honest. I promise I won’t tell her.”

He nodded.

“Why?” she asked.

“She was a poor kid who was taken advantage of by the supposed love of her life.  She bailed him out of jail and he ran for the hills. She’d never get out of that hole if someone didn’t help her. The bastard damaged her pride and really, being told that she couldn’t get a loan would have just dinged it more.”

To reward him for his honesty, she kissed him.

He just quirked an eyebrow at her and shook his head. Then he rolled the dice, moved his playing piece (which looks like the Scotty piece from Monopoly) so many places and then he read his card. He smiled and read off his card.

“You are a wonderful dancer. Your partner, alas, is not. I don’t have to finish reading this off, the answer is easy. I will dance with you even if your moves scare small children into crying for their mums,” he admitted. He handed the dice over to her with a noticeable pout, “No kiss?”

There was a brief smooch and then she rolled the dice as though she was at Vegas. She counted and then she pulled the card. She read it and then she shook her head as she feared the response. It would be… painful… Therefore, she took the next card and Felix put his hand on hers.

“That’s not how the game is played,” he softly reminded her. He held out his hand and Jemma tried to convince him to take the second card.  “Please give it to me.”

Regretfully, she did. He read the card, silently, and she saw his face change as he retreated into himself.  He put the card down and then he spoke slowly… haltingly…. “How would I describe my mother and my father?”

He finally spoke. “My mother was a weak alcoholic who never kept a single promise she ever made to me. My father was a raging alcoholic bully who I feared and hated. There was no safe place for me to hide when he was raging.”

That painful confession slowly voiced, he carefully put the game back into the box.  “I’m sorry, I don’t want to play anymore. I think the mushy peas didn’t agree with my stomach.”

“I’d like to stay tonight,” Jemma requested.

“I’m not in the mood for fun and frolic,” he slowly admitted. His eyes were haunted and he was stimming. 

“How about a cuddle?” she offered.

He nodded.


	64. The Next Step

When the six month trial period ended, Jemma Simmons returned back to where it had all started, Nina Silvestri’s office.  This time she remained upright and fully clothed.  And this time, she wouldn’t swoon. Well, perhaps not from fright and low blood sugar but instead due to being exhausted from some rather serious shagging.

“So,” the doctor stated. Her dark eyes were quite kind.  “Normally, you’d be talking to someone else about your decision, but I am rather curious about your choice after what was a very rocky start. I pulled a few strings, here I am. What is your decision? Did you kick their tires?”

Jemma crinkled her nose and blushed. “Yes, I kicked them. I decided that I’m keeping three of them. It’s terribly, terribly greedy of me, I must admit.”

“ ** _Three_**?” Nina repeated. “Which three?”

“The ones that brought me those lovely flowers when I swooned,” Jemma explained. “Really, it’s for their own good. If I let them lose into the wild, they’d be swarmed by eligible bachelorettes, and one of them, in particular, really needs to be protected from predators. They’d never have a chance. I’m not being greedy, really I’m just protecting them.”

“That’s very considerate of you,” Nina dryly offered.

Jemma nodded her head once and then she brightened. “Are you an obstetrician, also?”

Nina nodded.

“Maybe I better switch to you. My current doctor is a bit conservative, so she might not understand why there are three men in the delivery room. That is, if we decide on a delivery room. I’m thinking a water birth. I understand that there’s less chance of tearing?”

It was time for Nina to nod. Slowly. It seemed that Nina and Jemma had gone full circle, as now it was time for Nina to swoon, as she did look a little faint.

“I’ll schedule an appointment for a general checkup,” Jemma bubbled and then she left.

* * *

Sometimes, Jemma would permit herself a proper think in Jemma’s Thoughtful Spot, where she would marvel over the radical changes the last six months had brought.

First and foremost the complete change in her view of her ducklings.

Really, looking back, she realized that she had been a dense prat to dismiss them because of a few grey hairs and old war wounds.

She had foolishly believed the horrid rumors about them.

That since his return from the dead, Coulson was a zombie and insane.  Wrong, wrong, wrong, as he was unbelievably romantic and one hell of a kisser, besides being the most even keel of her boys.  The seemingly gregarious Garrett possessed surprisingly deep emotional depths, hidden behind a joker’s mask and the supposedly abrasive Felix was … Felix, sweetly exasperating, utterly adorably frustrating with his profound need for structure and safety, and who had begun to open himself up to her. First, it was thanks to a few rounds of various board games but now it wasn’t unusual (though it was still rare) for Felix to confide a previous trauma with her.  Usually after a long session of Jemma being extremely adored and worshipped while she was content to snuggle.

And the _lovemaking_.

Sometimes it was her and one of her boys, or sometimes it was two of the boys and her… but so far not a foursome.

All in all, just wondrous… as she went to concerts, museums, to the gun range and now was the proud owner of a custom trike which she rode on various excursions with John and Phil (As Felix seemed a bit leery of her on a bike and him on his bike in the same zip code for some strange reason. It was though he feared being permanently maimed) and a Mini Cooper Countryman that she had haggled for on her OWN. 

Heck, she had even gone back to the scene of the bowling alley massacre with John.

And now she had an invitation to return back to the scene of the crime, to the very bar where she had fainted (TWICE) and had been carried to Medical by John Garrett.

However, it begged the question – what next?

* * *

Naturally, Jemma’s harem was debating the same issue. John was content to leave it as the status quo, with all four (Sorry, Winston, FIVE) of them moving in together (with spots for Mary Sue, Fitz and Trip), and finding babies when Jemma informed them that she needed to be taken to the hospital post haste. Phil thought a serious discussion should be held to further define their relationship and Felix believed that everything should be documented in writing and signed off on. 

Everything, such as life insurance, custody of Winston, the possible children and John in case anything happened to Phil and Felix, mortgages, child raising, down to who did the adult laundry (Felix and Phil) and who was permitted to only wash socks, jeans and turtlenecks (John), how the finances were to be handed, including college tuition, living expenses and their own personal slush fund.

Naturally, Felix won, as he went ahead and did it, naysayers be damned. Wrote up every single situation he feared could happen (and there were many) and boiled it down to a seventy two page document of overwhelming doom, calamity, despair and highly probably Alien Invasion Complete With Building Collapses. Single spaced. Arial font size 9. Eeyore admitted to himself that perhaps he had been a bit TOO detailed, but really, it was necessary as someone needed to be a fatalist and prepare for the worst.

Sent it to off to a lawyer who specialist in prenups, and smartly rather omitted the fact that this document was for a multiamory relationship. Once returned, he had edited the returned document to match their specific needs.  He was rather proud of the fact that the lawyer had offered him a job writing prenups but really, it was his family, his odd, vaguely dysfunctional enough so it worked if you didn’t look at it too closely, that needed to be protected and maintained against any possible calamity.

That completed, he sent Phil and John to scope out several rings.  He had given them a list of specs, (For the LOVE of GOD, they were to leave any rings that had the polyamory symbol in the display case as really, DISCRETION, people! and really he didn’t want to explain the symbol to Winston as well, he was an innocent). His agents instructed, he had contributed his portion to the pre-plural engagement ring (Or was it a plural promise ring? A polyamory plighting one’s troth ring?), which had resulted in Phil giving most of it back to him as Jemma wouldn’t wear a ring that expensive.  Phil was right, but seriously didn’t Jemma deserve the best, considering she put with the three of them?

He had picked out one ring a lifetime ago. Had poured over the displays for hours, had needed to find the PERFECT ring.

That worked out really well.

Best leave the selection to Phil.   He had other issues such as perusing foreclosures to find the perfect house.  

 ** _HOME_**. 

And damn it, none of the listings had a duck pond (Jemma and her duckling fetish). Horse barn (John). Heated Garage. (Lola).  English Garden (Jemma). Carriage House (Trip and Fitz) In-Law Suite (Mary Sue… but really couldn’t she live in Carriage House with the boys? And why where the three of them living with them?), Captain America Memorabilia Room (Phil) and a nice, sound proof room for him, with muted colors where he could play his guitars in PEACE.

* * *

“I think that someone believes me completely incapable of picking out a ring,” John protested to Phil as they entered a particular elegant jewelry store. “Look, love that guy but … sometimes, it’s just like… I am completely capable of getting dressed in the morning without instructions. I know classy, I know elegance! I can do this without you holding my hand. His lack of faith is disturbing!”

“You wear jeans and a turtleneck,” protested Phil.

“May I help you?” interrupted a pale faced woman dressed in black.

“I’m looking for an engagement ring,” John explained. His smile lessened when he realized that the employee was looking at him and Phil in an ‘Aww… how sweet, an elderly gay couple’ manner.

“She’s absolutely amazing,” John inserted, leaving the employee dazed and confused. “I’d easily spend ten grand on her engagement ring, but she thinks I’m being silly. That’s what love does, I told her. When you’re in love, silliness abounds!”

He simpered and Phil looked as though he was on the crazy train.

“I’m John, and this is her father, Phil,” John explained. “He’s here to make sure I pick out the best ring for our Jemma. Isn't that right, Dad?”

John then playfully backslapped Phil.

The appointment went downhill after that.

* * *

To Felix’s surprise, the troops returned far too quickly for such a serious matter, which did not bode well.

A rather rattled looking Phil held out his hand to stop his protest, and explained, “John found it almost immediately and it was perfect.”

“John?” Felix asked. “John Garrett?”

“Hey! Don’t look like that!” John protested. “Show him the ring, Phil. It literally jumped out of the display case.”

Phil handed the box over to Felix who looked at it as though it was an anaconda. A hungry anaconda. Hesitantly, he opened the box, gawked at the ring for a bit, and then he looked at John.

“You did not pick this out,” he protested.   “This is **_classy_**. This is **_vintage_** , John. This screams **_Phil_**.”

“HEY!” Garrett roared. “It has three aquamarines for the three of us, and six accent diamonds… and the setting looked… traditional. Give me some credit!”

“I’m stunned,” admitted Felix. “Jonathan Garrett…. Picked out the perfect ring.”

* * *

 

 The three men arrived together.  Phil had the ring, John had flowers and Felix had five binders full of documents.  Plus Winston, who was look snazzy, as some smart ass (John) had put a bowtie on him.

“Felix, seriously, do you have to bring legal documents to this? This is supposed to be a moment when we’re optimistic and happy about our future,” John gently protested. “The fact that you’re bringing those, might lead Jemma to fear that you have doubts about our relationship.”

Felix twitched.  “But it’s important…” he protested. “If anything happens to any of us in the future, these documents will be invaluable. All our life insurance policies, the deeds to our apartments, updated wills…. **_Phil_**?”

A wild-eyed Felix was close to shutting down and Phil nodded his head. “I think Jemma will be impressed by your thoroughness because she’ll know you’ll want her taken care of in case anything happens.”

“It’s important,” Felix repeated, and Phil gently nodded his head.

He placed his hand on Felix’s shoulder and spoke in his best, calming voice, perfected after dealing with Thor and assorted other Natural Disasters. “It is, and you’ve done a very thorough job. Why don’t you and Winston get settled, John and I will bring you a drink. I’ll need his help carrying the drinks to the room.”

An uncertain Felix clutched his masterpieces to his chest and headed to the room. He was out of sight when Phil slapped John on the back of his head. HARD.

“Seriously, he’s close to coming apart at the seams. Let him have his documents,” Phil hissed.

“Phil, Schedule 4, Part I Section B line 3 details who gets custody of me if something happens to both you and him,” protested John. “And he’s pulled all our credit scores, Phil. Made me update my will.”

“You do need a keeper,” dryly admitted Phil who relished in John’s look of profound hurt.  “And yes, I read the bit about what happens if there is a building collapse due to an alien invasion.“

He ordered their drinks and quickly returned to the private room, where Felix had put on his glasses and was flipping through the documents. Again. Winston was leaning on Felix’s leg and being utterly, profoundly cute which meant Felix was in a bad way.

Fortunately, Jemma soon arrived and all three men (and dog) stood. She buzzed each of her men, and focused on a long kiss with Felix.  That done, she sat down, and nervously brushed her hands through her hair.

“I’m finally able to actually enjoy this place,” she murmured.  She smiled and thanked the waiters as they brought in a plethora of appetizers to their table. The waiters then promised to be back in thirty minutes and then securely closed the doors behind them.

Felix began to hand out binders and John didn’t even pretend to hide his annoyance. “Seriously, Felix.”

“What’s this?” Jemma asked.  She opened the binder and stared at the cover page for the longest time before she flipped to the table of contents detailing their coming together. Then she wiped a tear from her eye, and bit her lip before she spoke. “Felix, did you put this contract together? I can tell it’s your work.”

Deliberately, she placed her hand on his as he was close to stimming, and she smiled at him. “You dear sweet man, you are just so thorough. Where do I sign?”

“You need to read it,” protested Felix.

 “No, I don’t. I trust you,” she stated, even as Phil handed her a pen. “There’s absolutely nothing in this contract that will not be in my best interest, even if it’s what you view as my best interest. I see Phil and John have already signed, so I will add my name. Right next to Winston’s paw print.”

That done, she handed the binder back to Felix and she asked him to sign.

“You need to read this,” protested Felix.  “And who put Winston’s paw print on the document? When did you two sign this?”

“Actually I’ve read enough to know that I don’t have a ring,” she mock protested.

 She wiggled her fingers at her boys and John Garrett took her left hand and presented to Phil.  Felix held her right and Jemma looked at three men.  Slowly, and then Phll pulled out a small box and opened it.  That done, he presented it to her. It was bright, it was sparky and it was...  beautiful.

“Jemma Elizabeth Simmons, on behalf of John, Felix, Winston and myself….” Phil began. “Would you please accept this?”

 


	65. Chapter 65

Four months later.

An utterly debauched Jemma Simmons luxuriated in her post-coital bliss even while John Garrett kissed her ‘tramp stamp’…  a DNA inspired tattoo that ran up her spine.  It really wasn’t a tramp stamp, as it didn’t start at the base of her spine, but… still it was distinctively unJemma like.

“Chaz does amazing work,” John admitted.  “However, Felix’s tats don’t look as good as your….”

Jemma rolled over, as John’s kisses were ticklish and he knew that. John gave her a naughty grin as he admired the view.

“How’s the house hunt coming along?” she asked while she stretched, letting John have quite the gander.

“Felix is being Felix, which means he’s being thorough and cost-conscious,” John admitted while they snuggled. “Plus taking Phil along when he thinks he might have something that ticks off everything on our wish list. So far the two of them haven’t found anything that they think might work.”

“Is that the real reason?” She wistfully asked.

“He’s not being difficult. I know Winston would love to end the sleepovers and just have the five of us living in sin together.”

“I’m really not that type of girl to live in sin,” Jemma protested.  Though considering she now had multiple experiences of sex in twosomes and threesomes under her belt, as it were, she wasn’t one to talk. It seemed that a foursome was off the card for some silly reason that the boys weren’t sharing or else they were saving the experience for later. But by God, she thought she could handle the three of them quite well, even if she had to line them up (Lay them down?) in a row. “I really can’t wear a white dress, but I think I deserve a big party.  We have to accept the fact that if I’m having a relationship with all three of you that we should let your friends know before we start having children. Have any of you told any of your friends about us?”

John Garrett swallowed once and then slowly admitted, “Simmons, we never told anybody about us, when it was just the three of us.”

“So it will be an even bigger surprise then,” she chirped. “Big party.”

Meanwhile, Phil was staring at an increasingly frazzled Felix in utter confusion. He looked at the computer screen and it what it detailed, before he focused on Felix.

“A barn?” he repeated.  “You want to move us into a barn?”

“A converted connected farm house,” Felix explained. “Here’s the specs. They went into foreclosure before it was finished being renovated. Jemma wants a quaint home with character. It’s looks… **_quaint_**  ... I think as i'm sure what quaint really means.... but it has stone walls, some brick work and all those wooden beams. Plus there’s a spot so she can have her garden… and dare I mention, it’s got the damn aquarium. And the duck pond.”

“In a barn?” Phil repeated. “Do we each get a separate stall? Seriously, a barn? I mean, I know we joked about standing stud, but this is carrying that joke WAY too far, Felix.”

“In a barn,” agreed Felix.  “John insists that there are stalls… for Skye and the boys…Christ, you have me doing it now – I mean space. Did anyone actually ask them if they want to move? I know Skye is losing her housing, but we’ve got time before Mrs. Lopez moves in with her daughter.”

“Well it makes sense, they can pay rent, and help with the mortgage.”

Blake snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Felix, I know you’re supplementing Skye’s rent with Mrs. Lopez. Just think of this way, if she pays you rent, you can cut out the middle man. You just take the money from your right pocket and put it into your left pocket. ”

“Garrett will still have to pay me,” was Felix’s droll retort. He added in exasperation when he realized that Phil appeared confused, “Seriously, you didn’t know? Like I’m not supposed to know that you’ve asked Jemma to help Skye dress more professionally. Adopting strays are expensive and time consuming as they need shots and all that shit. Pretty collars and licenses! And who paid for the party when she finally got her GED?”

Felix pointed an accusing finger at Phil, who wisely didn’t mention that Felix had bought a bottle of really good champagne to celebrate their very own version of the Christmas Miracle. Truth demanded that Felix had put a great deal of effort into his portion of Skye's GED so the bottle had probably been for him, not Skye. 

“One of these days, she’ll have to find her own stray to adopt and try to turn into the perfect spouse,” Felix added. “I’m sure Draft Day is looming in her future. No doubt on that auspicious day, she’ll want her own place in which to entertain.”

“I assured her that we’d chaperone,” Phil admitted. “She’s rather nervous about it, so I told her that we’d be there to scare her prospective spouses.”

Felix’s face fell as he growled a, “WTF.”

“She’s Jemma’s best friend and you know Jemma will want us to keep an eye on her potential suitors. To keep her out of harm’s way just in case she gets someone who isn’t housebroken.”

“Excuse me, didn’t John think that when he put our names in the pool for Simmons?” Felix asked.  “And look how well that turned out.  We should be put on TLC as a really bad reality program called, **_Jemma's Harem_**. Phil, seriously! I don’t want to wake one morning and discover Skye’s the newest member of Jemma’s Harem as you and John have decided that she requires protection that only you two can provide.”

Wisely, Phil didn’t comment on how all three men had seemed happier since that faithful day that Simmons had swooned (repeatedly) into their lives.  It had been a difficult emotional journey for all three men, especially Blake, so it was best not to disturb old emotional scars that were finally healing. However, he had silently agreed with John Garrett when the other man had confided his desire to tag and bag Blake so Blake wouldn’t be able to panic and run for the hills.

“So when do we go see the farmhouse?”  Phil asked.

“You doing anything this afternoon?” Blake questioned. “Do you have any urge to pretend that you’re Farmer Phil? Slap on a pair of overalls? Grab a pitchfork? Hum the theme from _ **Green Acres**_?”

“Where is it?” Phil asked.

“Connecticut,” Felix admitted.  “It’s hard to find what she wants in New York City.”

“Weather’s good, why don’t we all take a bike ride?” Phil suggested.   At Felix's noticable unease, he added, “If I didn’t know better I think you’re scared of Jemma on a trike.”

“Guilty!” was Blake’s cheerful disclosure.  “I’m putting off a hip replacement for as long as possible.”

That was news to Phil, so he couldn’t help but be concerned. First, that it was a possibility and that secondly Felix hadn’t mentioned it to him. From personal experience, he knew that Felix keeping secrets was the beginning of a Felix-Retreats-Inward-Incident. Damn it, damn it, had he been so enthused with Jemma that he had failed to notice the tell-tale signs of Felix needing a mental time out in the corner?

“Foster said that you need a hip replacement?” Phil asked as he placed his hand on Felix’s shoulder. “When did he tell you that?”

“Phil, with my rather extensive orthopedic history, it’s not a question of if, only a question of when,” Phil Coulson’s very own personal white haired Eeyore explained. “Seriously, I don’t want to even think of being immobilized in bed again. I simply can’t handle that.”

“She’s actually a very safe driver,” Phil assured Felix.

“I have no doubt that she is the most conscientious driver ever to hit the asphalt, but bad things happen when she’s around. Usually to me,” protested Felix. "And I have no desire to hit the asphalt."

“She only hurts the ones she loves.” Phil flippantly assured Felix.

“Fuck you,” was the lightning fast retort.

Bad comment, Phil realized. However, he had to force the issue, somehow.

Phil shook his head in disapproval over Felix’s language. “Seriously, this house looks good from the pictures. I think we should all look at it, and I think also, that all of us going for a bike ride would be nice. It would mean so much to her if **_you_** invited her. She knows how much you love riding your bike and it’s obvious to all of us how scared you are to share it with her.  I mean, her getting a license was a way for her to share the experience with you. Show some trust, Felix. Please. John and I go riding with her all the time, and I haven’t landed in Urgent Care.”

Felix froze in spot even as Phil pondered that perhaps he had put a bit too much emotional pressure on Felix.

"Felix, it would mean so much to her if you invited her. Seriously."

* * *

 

Jemma’s phone rang and she picked it up once she realized that it was Felix.

“Hi,” she warmly greeted.  She listened for a moment and then her face broke into a wide smile. “Yes, I’d **_love_** to go riding with you all. I’ll let John know. Thank you for inviting me. Where should we meet?”

She listened for a bit longer and then she said her goodbyes. 

“John, Felix invited me to take the trike out for a ride,” she gleefully exclaimed.  “It’ll be the five of us, as Felix wants us to check out a house. All of us are going for a bike ride.”


	66. 66

The group met at a parking lot. Felix, being Felix, insisted on reviewing hand signals, the route, the formation and various other minutiae besides checking over her trike to confirm that it was ready for the long drive.  Jemma nodded her head at key points and then when Felix repeated herself, she nodded once again.

Finally, he stopped and looked at his feet.

“I know I’m repeating myself,” he admitted.  “It’s just … I can’t help it.”

“I know,” she softly agreed.

“It’s like I constantly have a mental fire alarm sounding. I know there’s no fire, but it’s still ringing, so I keep looking for the fire,” he explained.

She reached for his arm and squeezed. Hard. When he looked at her instead of his boots, she stood on her toes and kissed him on his cheek.

“It’s part of your charm,” she assured him.

He grimaced a weak smile and nodded his head.

“Of which you have a literal overabundance of charm,” she informed him. “Now, we need to get on the road.”

* * *

 

It was a pleasant drive, even though as the lead rider Felix set the pace, by staying under the speed limit.  At last they turned down a long driveway and then…  They pulled in front of the garage… a three car garage… and Jemma dismounted, and then waited for the realtor.  Unexpectedly Jemma realized that she was coming HOME.

“I thought we’d never get here,” John loudly announced. “Seriously, there is a speed **_minimum_**.”

Winston huffed, loudly, and then began to explore the grounds. He sniffed the grounds and marked the terrorist as all his. Interlopers be damned.

Felix ignored John as he walked towards the front door. There was a lock box on the door and Felix opened it.

“Are we meeting the realtor?” Phil asked.

“No, I spoke with the realtor. It’s Jameson, used to work in procurement?” Felix commented. “He said that we could have free reign on the house, since I put down a deposit. We can walk around outside, and see what it looks like. What do you think so far?”

“It has curb appeal,” announced John Garrett. Phil smirked a grin, and shrugged his shoulder in easy agreement. “Though it needs some prettying up.”

“I think I could be very happy here,” Jemma admitted.  “If the rest of the house matches the first impression.”

“Let’s take a tour,” he offered.

“Let’s!” she agreed as she slipped her arm around his. “I have another arm free, boys.”

Phil got there first, which left John pouting.

* * *

 

It was an old fashion rambling farm house with a connected barn. Yet what was behind the barn was what captured Jemma’s heart, because she saw her future here.  Garden teas with a far too serious little girl who had her father’s eyes.  There would be hats for them both plus one for the long suffering Winston who would go along with their silliness with his natural grace.  There would be a rough and tumble little boy who would try to convince his younger brother to join him in his escapades. Normally, the younger boy would be smart enough not to listen to his brother except when charm overwhelmed his common sense.

“There’s a garden! A real English garden,” she gasped.

“Needs some tender loving care,” Phil murmured as he looked over one section that was full of weeds and flowers.

“No, it looks overgrown,” offered John as he bent down to shift a cobblestone back into position. “May need to rip some of this overgrowth out.”

“That’s ok, there’s plenty of heavy lifting you can do, John,” Felix suggested.  “Lots of clean up.”

“Oh hush,” protested Jemma. “Is that a pond?”

She dragged Felix and Phil behind her as she raced to the pond.

“And there are ducks! I have my duck pond! And there are little ducklings!”

Yes, there was a mama duck with a long trail of ducklings that followed her closely, except for one duckling that seemed to be following his own mind. He was a little daredevil duck as he merrily splashed even while his brothers and sisters sedately followed their mum.

“Look – there’s John!” Phil laughed as he pointed out at the loner duck.

“HEY!” protested John.

“We’ll need to fence this off,” protested Felix.  “It won’t be safe if there are children.”

“No if,” Jemma protested. “No if, there will be. Though, maybe, I shouldn’t jinx us.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll always have John,” deadpanned Felix. “He’ll never leave home.”

* * *

 

After a long walk around the grounds, Felix suggested that they take a look at the house.

“There’s an in-law apartment upstairs,” he dutifully informed Jemma as they entered through the garage/barn. “For Phil’s stray. Fitz and Trip will need to find their own place to live, I’m afraid.”

John Garrett smirked and Jemma poked him in the ribs. “Seriously?” she asked even as Phil and Felix discussed the circuit breaker.

“Seriously, he has no idea,” John murmured.

“And you have no filter,” protested Jemma. “Can we get our family settled first? Before you bring in a sister wife?”

“She won’t be **_my_** sister wife,” John whispered. “I’m all yours. Heart, soul, and multiple valued added body parts. I’m promised that they’re good for another twenty thousand miles.”

“Seriously, and what about Phil and Felix?” she teased back at him.

“You’re a girl, that’s makes you a hundred times better in my eyes,” he teased. He turned seriously and he leaned down towards her ears. “I can’t believe this is actually working out.  Sometimes, I even impress myself with my spur of the moment plans.”

“Seriously, the battle for my quim was not a spur of the moment plan,” she primly stated while John gasped, loudly, dramatically which earned him another jab in his ribs. “It was akin to an expedition to climb Mt. Everest.”

“And in spite of our best plans, you conquered us all,” quipped John. “You have no idea how much Jemma has changed Team Jemma for the better.”

She smiled, content in her victory.

* * *

 

They continued to explore, and Jemma had her suspicions when Phil ‘found’ a bottle of champagne in the fridge before they explored the master bedroom.

“Do you like this house?”  Felix asked her. “Should we put down an offer?”

“I do,” she admitted. “However, the master bedroom will make or break the deal. I’d like to try it out before we go. After all, I know Felix won’t let us drive back if we have any champagne. Did you make arrangements for us to stay overnight?”

“Well yes, we’d need a suitable drying out period,” Phil admitted as he opened the door to reveal a huge master bedroom with a very large bed. Large enough for four… possibly five adults and a very large dog.  

“And find something to entertain me,” she admitted.  She decided to place herself just so in the middle of the bed and then she smiled at her harem. “I demand to be worshipped and adored.”

She predicted it would be the first of many wonderful nights in her new home. And years later, she knew that she had been utterly correct.

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. :)


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